


Testing the Limits

by lusium



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Demons, And probably slow in some parts, Blood, Buckle in kids, Dark & Anti are Demons, Demon Summoning, Demonic Possession, Explicit Language, Guns, I'm absolutely horrible at summaries im sorry, More egos may make an appearance or two., The demons are pissed, Theres always dick jokes when it comes to Anti, This is going to be a long one, We'll have more characters later on in the story too, a vague mention of stabbing?, but im doing my best, more tags will be added as the story continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-03-24 20:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusium/pseuds/lusium
Summary: The faint whispering around him had his ears ringing, a tug in his chest forcing his heart rate to quicken against his attempts to keep calm. Despite opening his eyes, Mark could see only the ever expandingDark, could feel it coiling around the very core of his being and seeming to tug him in all directions at once. Abruptly, everything stopped, the darkness around him coiling viciously in a slowly growing whirlwind that seemed to fold in on itself, curling and compacting into a form all too familiar.Mark and Jack are officers in a world where demons walking the streets, and being bound to the minds of other humans are the norm.





	1. The Laws

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be trying to update either every Tuesday or Thursday, depending on when I get the chapter done and how impatient I am to actually post it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm posting two chapters right off the bat, since I don't want to make people upset with that fact that this isn't an actual chapter.

So you’ve found yourself stuck with a demon, have you? Or are you simply looking to see what rules a bound demon operates by—whether natural, or learned over time. Regardless of the reason, you my dear audience, are in the right place. Inside this book, are the rules that many—bound to, and not—people have observed about demons, whether it be through simple observation, or actual tests. It is my personal hope, that with this book you will find the solution to all the problems, or answers to all the questions you’re having about demons.

Without further ado, the rules;

  1. A demon is unable to take over a body that they are not bound to.



However, there are cases of demons being able to overcome the power an already present soul may have on a body, and as a result, an extraordinarily weak bond may form, with neither being able to communicate well, or even be able to control each other—the demon often times driving their forcefully bound partner mad with the stress the body suddenly must undertake in its attempt to repel the intruding force. These such people, are referred to as _“Walkers”_ and are often those that fall victim to the Avili class of demons.

  1. The bound demon _Must_ obey a direct order given to them.



Many demons may attempt to find a way around this rule, however many—those who are more willing to talk with their demon partner—have reported that keeping a stern tone, and keeping focused on the intent behind your order, will render the demon unable to find a loophole through such an order; and as such, are required to follow it. However, phrasing an order in the way of a question, or a suggestion, renders this law void, as the demon is able to quickly cast it aside in the reasoning that it wasn’t a true order.

  1. The demon is allowed to do anything deemed necessary in order to protect their bound partner.



In extreme cases, a demon may be found to “possess” the body of their bound—taking over control of it while the bound person still remains conscious inside their own body, as if having an out-of-body experience— in order to protect them. Though such cases have been noted to happen rarely, making it simply more likely that the demon may throw an occasional barrier in an attempt to ward against a blow that may have proved otherwise deadly, in order to give enough time for their bonded to escape from the fight.

  1. Upon being provided with a corporeal form, it is to be noted that the demon will _always_ take on a form similar to—if not identical—to their bonded partner.



The similarities between the two forms are as few as merely having the same facial structure, overall build and height, while other additions make their way to the surface to reflect the demon as they are—such as an addition of horns, tails, or in some cases, wings. However, others have reported that the similarities can run as deep as being essentially an exact _copy_ of their bound partner, save a slight change that may require a second-look to notice upon the demon, such as slightly more pointed ears, or even a grin that shows too many teeth.

  1. A bound demon may attempt to renegotiate the laws of a contract if they are unhappy with it after some time.



The bound person may refuse these changes at any time, though it is recommended to at least hear the demon out first, as they may—if it’s true that a demon grows attached enough to actually _care_ about their bond person in the way one may care about a family member, or close friend—provide easier alternatives to a complicated law, that prevents loopholes from being found, or even more rules that may provide a higher amount of safety for the bound partner while in the demon’s presence.

  1. A demon cannot go against the terms in their binding agreement, or risk severe side-effects from it.



These side effects are not well known, though some have noted that with the lesser rules, such as scratching up the wooden furniture when they clearly told their demonic roommate that it was against the household rules, that the demon may feel a varying amount of pain, or discomfort. Likely to reflect the distress that it inflicts upon their bond mate. The exact extent of these side effects have yet to be observed in a demon.

  1. A binding mark will be placed upon the bound partner as testament to the claim the demon has upon the person.



With a bond being formed between human and demon, it’s customary that a demon places a mark upon their partner, with the placement varying on the body. It’s noted that it can be placed _anywhere_ on the body, including (in one rare case) directly upon the iris of their partner. It’s to be noted that the more visible the place that the demon places the mark, the stronger the bond between them is. As an example, a mark on someone’s thigh is less binding than a mark on one’s hand, as the thigh is rarely seen, whereas a hand is in plain view. While impossible to gauge how much strength a bond gains from the placement of the mark, it is to be noted that they only seem to become visible, once the demon has been brought to the corporeal plain through the long, and rather complicated ritual, that the demon themselves may instruct their partner through.

  1. A demon that gives their name to their partner is—by all meanings of the word—stronger than one who has not given their name.



The exact reasoning for such a phenomenon is unknown, though it is likely linked to the sensations reported by those bound, once the demon has shared their name. Many of the observations of such a thing have explained that the giving of a name _deepens_ the bond between demon and human, giving a complete mental link between the two parties, and allowing the demon to reach the rest of their power that may have been lingering in their human partner’s body—essentially locked away until they’ve found it necessary. Those with such a bond have reported that the demon using its full power leaves a ‘tingling’ feeling in their body that may last for a varying amount of time, an hour or two being the most common, with the shortest being a mere five minutes, and the longest being the stretch of 3 whole days.

Now, my dear audience, that you have armed yourself with this knowledge of the demons, I wish you luck on the rest of your journey, be it seeking a demon to bond with for a variety of different means, or simply growing used to the demon that may have bonded itself to you—if the latter is the case, I do have to recommend attempting the binding ritual, as it may provide enough of a buffer between the two of you to allow a much _healthier_ bond to form, and render the stress on your body mute.

Until the next time,

 -Edward Iplier.


	2. Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first chapter that actually has the story in it! So, here we go.

A hand scrubbed at his brow, squinting to try and see better in the ever growing darkness. The chalk in his hand leaving an unpleasantly dry feeling on clammy palms. While he could see relatively normal, breathing was steadily becoming harder as he felt cold talons curl at the back of his neck, felt the eerie calm in the air momentarily disrupted as the unseen form allowed it's strength to seep into his muscles, pushing away the developing cramps in his thighs and back from his hunched position. 

Abruptly, he could breathe again, the figure sliding back without a sound as he blinked the blurriness away from his vision. Movement in his peripheral had Mark glancing over, seeing the dyed mop of green hair from where Jack was crouched a paper with a hastily scribbled sigil held in one hand, with another piece of chalk in the other, and a flashlight gripped between his teeth due to the lack of free hands in order to light the way.

"How're you holding up over there, Jack?" Mark called, watching the flashlight bob slightly as Jack attempted to figure out what to move around so he could talk. Quickly finishing his own marking; Mark straightened his stance, feeling the discs of his spine popping in relief now that he was out of the cramped position. Moving to stand next to his partner, the detective braced himself before moving back into a crouching position, taking the piece of paper from the Irish man to free up a hand, only to watch it immediately be claimed again by the flashlight Jack had previously been holding in his mouth.

"Better now that I don't have to hold all of that" Jack said after a moment, turning the flashlight towards the paper to get a better look at the sigil he was supposed to be drawing. Mark taking a moment to adjust his hold on it to give the Irishman a better view of the finer details of the sigil. 

"You didn't have to help with it-" He started, though was abruptly cut off by the rather victorious sounding  _"aha!"_ that escaped from the other man as he filled in the last few bits of the sigil. Waiting until the sound had died off, Mark went to repeat what he'd said, though Jack's raised hand had him obligingly shutting up so the other man could talk.

"Whether I had to or not, I ain't just gonna sit around as you do all the work! You still have more to do after this- and thats if  _he_ decides to actually cooperate this time!" Jack said simply, directing a rather pointed look over Mark's shoulder, as if glaring at the disembodied growl that echoed through his mind.

Taking his chance now that Jack seemed distracted enough with glaring at the space over his shoulder, Mark waved the worry off, "It's not too much work, since he's basically walking me through all of this, it could be worse..." He trailed off slightly as the frigid presence returned, a sigh escaping his throat at the talons curling at the back of his neck.

 _'Why do you keep him around again? He's loud, and grating on my ears.'_ the voice hissed, a thinly veiled rage boiling under the words as Mark rolled his shoulders in an attempt to be rid of the feeling. 

 _'Cause he's my friend and my partner?'_ Mark thought, feeling the resounding wave of annoyance from the demon before they seemed to find something else to amuse themselves with until it was time to continue giving the instructions. Though it took a moment for Mark to realize Jack had been watching him in silence, observing the mental interaction before he gave a quick shrug.

"He talkin' to ya again?" Jack asked after a moment, straightening his stance to get the kinks out of his back; something that had Mark giving a quick hum of acknowledgement with a nod of his head. "Thought so," Jack started again, "You were startin' to look like someone took you to a hot topic and said 'go nuts'" He finished, the abrupt description bringing a snort of amusement from the detective as he shook his head.

"Like you wouldn't get all the cool stuff in there." Mark huffed, straightening back up to look over the chalk-drawn expanse of the circle. He couldn't help but find it odd that there didn't need to be anyone else there to try and pull the demon to the corporeal plane, though another faintly echoing snort had him rethinking the concern. He probably only needed one person because they were already bound. It wasn't like they were trying to tear a whole separate demon- unbound and all- into the world to try and bond with it. That would definitely need more than one person.

"Alright, time to see if there's anything else we have to do to this, or if that's all he needed done to it." Mark said after a moment, sparing another few seconds to look over the finer details of the summoning circle- only vaguely seeing the assenting nod from the Irishman beside him as he shuffled out of the circle. It was a precaution Mark wouldn't fault him for, his demon had a tendency to get impatient, and start things the moment they were ready without waiting for people to get out of the way...

**————————————**

Intricately scrawled lines shone faintly as the moon's light made contact with the white chalk, though the glow darkened rapidly until it seemed to be endlessly absorbing the light, the presence at his back fading slowly telling Mark that the demon had deemed it satisfactory enough, and that it was time to begin the ritual. Something that had him forcing his mind to focus on the present. He knew how this demon worked, he knew how tricky it had been the  _first_ time they bonded, even if it was just enough to build the connection between them to even allow the demon to ride along in his body. Connected, yet separated from the corporeal plane all the same.

The faint whispering around him had his ears ringing, a tug in his chest forcing his heart rate to quicken against his attempts to keep calm. Despite opening his eyes, Mark could see only the ever expanding  _Dark_ , could feel it coiling around the very core of his being and seeming to tug him in all directions at once. Abruptly, everything stopped, the darkness around him coiling viciously in a slowly growing whirlwind that seemed to fold in on itself, curling and compacting into a form all too familiar.

Only once the shadows settled, was Mark able to begin making out the features of the creature standing across from him, crimson rings glowing against a gray complexion. Despite how familiar the figure seemed, it was alien all the same. Mark could feel himself rising to stand across from the demon without a second thought—feeling as though he were having an out of body experience, like his body was moving on auto pilot without his approval. His body froze mere inches away from the demon, crimson hues seeming to map over his body for a moment before it set to examining itself. Absently, Mark could only find it in himself to wonder whether it was the demon's choice to be robed in only the formal attire of a suit, the fabric as dark as the ink of a writing quill. 

 _"Are you finished gawking at me yet?"_ The harsh tone ripped the detective from his thoughts, blinking several times to focus on the faintly glowing gaze of the demon across from him, watching as it slowly moved to stand in a much more 'proper' stance—with their hands clasped behind their back, and chest puffed up as though acting like an executive in a office scenario. 

Swallowing back the sudden lump in his throat, Mark gave a quick nod of his head, forcing himself to focus on the sting of blunt nails curling into the flesh of his palms before the demon across from him began to pace—gradual at first before it seemed to increase in fervor, as if a feral beast looking for a way from it's cage. It's voice bringing his attention to the fact that the runes and sigils around the circle were glowing an angry red.

 _"How long ago had you summoned me from the depths of hell in order to save your life? How long ago was it that you agreed to letting me in to preserve what you thought of as important?"_ It spoke, voice seeming to project through the barrier itself to echo across the empty rooftops, though it didn't seem finished in it's point.  _"Each time you called upon me, you tasted a little portion of my power, until you finally decided to join this..."_ The demon paused, a hand gesturing in front of it momentarily as if searching for the word before a growl of frustration escaped an ashen throat.

 _"This **thing**. And now today, you seek to bring me unto this plane? For what purpose are you attempting to bind me? What would you get from having me at your beck and call like a  **servant?** " _It hissed, finally turning crimson hues back onto his face.

Mark could feel the sweat at the back of his neck as glowing hues bore into his skull, as if reading the very depths of his mind. The demon  _knew_ why he was summoning him to the corporeal plane, had even  _offered_ to help with setting up the very ritual to form the host body it would be inhabiting for the time it was there. And yet it still asked him these questions? Taking a deep breath, Mark moved to speak, though the raised hand had him obligingly falling silent again, listening to the voice, as warped and echoing as it may have been.

 _"You say you want to protect them, those who are not strong enough to protect themselves. You offer the very life blood of your body to gain the one thing that will allow you to do so. The way you're seeking is not one to turn away from, you are aware I'm sure."_ The demon paused, sparing a quick glance towards him before it continued to speak, now facing the dark of the evening outside of the circle. _"With my help, you want to save them. With my help, you will be able to protect them."_ Yet another pause before crimson eyes turned back towards his face, the demon turning fully to face him yet again.

 _"With your help, I will be anchored to this realm, and you will have what you're seeking."_ The silence stretched for what felt like eons before Mark slowly nodded his head, attempting to focus through the suffocating feeling his body was suffering, though such a weight disappeared within moments as the demon gave a low hum. 

_"Then, Mark, what are your terms?"_

Oh, right. He was supposed to give him rules—Mark honestly couldn't help but find it a little odd that this one seemed to  _want_ the rules, though he figured that it was due to the amount of time that they'd already been bound together. So realistically, it already knew the limits of his patience, of what it could and couldn't do. But... then again, this  _was_ the demon's first time being corporeal—or so he was assuming—so it honestly wasn't odd for much longer that it was seeking to know just what it couldn't do.

"You're not allowed to harm anyone who is not a threat to either your survival, the survival of my partner, or myself." He started, watching the crimson eyes narrow slightly before the demon nodded in assent, taking it as his cue to continue on with a sharp intake of breath; "A direct command from myself can  _only_ be broken if you're  _absolutely Certain_ that doing so will prevent harm to any of the aforementioned parties." Mark continued, hearing the low growl before yet another nod came from the demon.

"My home is to be left untouched, meaning you  _cannot_ destroy it, no matter how satisfying it may appear to be." Mark explained calmly, feeling the easing frustration around him at his initial hesitance to speak about the terms of the contract, another nod from the demon had him extending his hand towards them.

"Finally, You're not a servant, I'm not your master. We're  _Equals._ Understand?" He said, watching the emotions flicker rapidly through the demon's crimson gaze before another nod answered him, the pair falling into a tense silence before gradually; a hand raised to meet his in a quick shake. The demon's echoing tone ringing out mere seconds later.

 _"I will agree to your terms, and if that is all. Then let us be done with this ritual and the binding Completed."_ They snarled, a sudden surge of the demon's aura sending a shooting pain through Mark's hand that he struggled not to yank free, knowing it was the demon's way of placing his mark. Where exactly it was, he wasn't aware. All he knew, was that the ritual was over, and they could finally leave the circle. Only once his hand was freed, did Mark let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"So, since things are different now... What am I going to call you?" He asked after a moment, looking at his near carbon copy form of a demon before his teeth were bared in a small grin.

_"I would rather you call me Dark, as you had before."_

**————————————**

The sound of the barrier giving out could have easily been described as glass shattering, the unnatural darkness seeming to slink away until the rooftop was cleared enough for the humans to once again see where they were going. 

Rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, Mark gave a quiet groan, already knowing that he'd be sore in the morning just from the stress of binding Dark. Straightening himself up—and ignoring the hand at his back that seemed to offer some form of wordless support from the demon—Mark set his focus on looking for the bright green mop of hair that would signal where Jack was located, giving a quick whistle as he noticed the Irishman was zoning out—likely talking to his own demon, Mark figured. Knowing that Anti tended to get rambunctious when around other demons, especially those on the corporeal plane.

Absently, Mark couldn't help but feel sorry for the Irishman, not sure of how the other demon would take to knowing their "partner" was given a physical form while they were stuck still in a simpler form of the binding.

"Come on Jack, it's getting late" Mark said, shaking off the thoughts as he approached the distracted Irishman, waiting a few moments before bright hues of blue shifted to look at him, blinking rapidly to clear blurry vision. A groan of exertion escaping from the other man as he, too straightened himself to stand, and gave a quick nod.

"Homeward we go then!" Jack announced—rather loudly, Mark would add, hearing the echo of the other detective's voice bounce across the empty rooftops before the green haired man all but  _bounced_ his way down the now open fire escape, calling something back towards him all the while.

"... How the hell does he even have that much energy? It's..." Mark paused briefly in his complaint to glance down at his phone, nearly choking on the air as he read the time, " _3 in the Morning?"_ Great,  _AND_ he had to be at work in less than 6 hours...

"Then stop wasting time complaining about it, and start on the way home." Dark said, his voice rumbling quietly over his shoulder as Mark gave a heavy sigh of defeat, and started on his way down the stairs.

Might as well get it over with.


	3. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place a few days after the official "first" chapter.
> 
> And focuses on everyone's favorite shouty Irish youtuber!

"Mark? Why're you callin now we just got off work? Don't tell me you forgot somethin' at the office." Jack drawled, exhaustion having already begun to seep its way into his bones before the near shrill voice of his partner chased it away.

 _"I thought he'd be more behaved than this!"_ Mark all-but-cried into the phone, the faint sound of something heavy being shoved across wooden floors drifting slowly through the microphone and directly into Jack's ear. Blinking in confusion, the Irishman could only give a sound of question, unable to think of anything to say for a few moments before Mark had seemed to understand the unspoken question.

 _"Dark! He just keeps moving everything around in the middle of the night, and using the wooden furniture like it's a scratching post. I swear he's more like a cat than a demon!"_ Mark sighed, resignation to his fate of forever being the sitter of a very adult-sized cat-man-demon clear in his voice before Jack spoke up.

"... You told 'em not to destroy your apartment didn't you?"

 _"Yeah, but apparently he found a loophole in that by explaining that he's not **destroying** it, but  **redecorating** in a very frustrating fashion, **t** **echnically**  hes not breaking the rules." _Mark said after a moment, though the sound of something shattering over the phone had a startled yelp coming from the other detective, a worried frown making it's way onto Jack's face even though he knew that the other wouldn't be able to see it.

 _"Shit—gotta go Jack, I think he just cut his hand open on something and I need to make sure he doesn't punch the coffee machine for burning him or some other bullshit like that with his tiny ass temper."_ Mark announced, paying little attention to when the Irishman gave a hum of acknowledgement and farewell before a more distant shout—telling Jack that Mark had either moved the phone away from his face, or he'd dropped it on something to go look immediately after speaking—filtered through the phone:

_"Where did you even **get** that? Spit-Spit that out! Dark!"_

The Irishman set the phone aside, running his free hand through the messy mop of green hair as the occasional snort of laughter found its way from the detective's throat; mind still focused on the phone call with Mark that he'd just gotten out of, the question beginning to rise in his mind of just _what_ the formal appearing demon had managed to get his hands on—er... his mouth on would be more accurate he supposed, since apparently Dark was  _eating_ something he wasn't supposed to be.

_Probably some sort of laundry detergent?_

As his laughter subsided, it took a moment for the Irishman to realize why the slowly building pressure in the back of his head had suddenly shot to a fully fledged migraine; The obnoxious howling of the demon settled further back in his mind sending the white hot flashes of agony racing through his skull.

 _"Anti"_  He growled, a hand clutching the side of his skull in an attempt to distract himself from the steadily increasing pain. The 'approach' of the mischievous demon being enough of a distraction to let the migraine's steady throbbing fade into the background as a dull ache.

 _"You called?"_ The demon cackled, phantom claws tracing over unseen patterns on the detective's throat and shoulders, causing chills to race up the man's spine as he made his way towards the bathroom. Promptly fixing his gaze on the nearest mirror with a rather prominent scowl on his face. It took a few moments before the expression in the mirror changed, a maniacal grin full of far too many teeth—teeth too sharp to be  _human—_ easily wiping away the scowl as his reflection's eyes darkened, the scleras dyed an inky black as emerald pinpricks flared to life.

"You know damn well why I called you" Jack said, glaring in frustration at the reflection of the demon in front of him—who's hands raised in a placating gesture, one that Jack knew to be a simple gesture, and not truly meaning for the man to calm down in  _any_ sense of the word. 

 _"You're finally ready to admit I can kick your ass in a duck shooting contest?"_ The demon said, pointed ears perking up as his reflection's head tilted at an unnatural angle. 

"Duck shooting wh—No! That's not the point here at  _all_ you giggly bitch." Jack could briefly see a look of annoyance flash across the reflection's face before he shook his head, "You're acting out again and you haven't given me a single reason why for the past three days!" He huffed, watching the reflection carefully before the demon had looked away, the mirror seeming to wobble before a growl escaped from the reflection's throat.

 _"Maybe I'm just fuckin' bored, ever think of that? Being cooped up in an office all day is boring as shit!"_ The demon hissed, ears laying back as the reflection's eyes narrowed, clearly  _reflecting_ the demon's feelings on being questioned before the reflection appeared to shatter, complete with a full visual of the mirror itself falling to pieces in front of Jack's eyes. Though blinking a few times rendered the mirror back in one piece, and only  _his_ reflection looking back out at him, clearly lacking any of the  _"Antiness"_ that Jack had come to associate with his reflection any time he'd talk to the demon.

Now left to the silence of his own thoughts—and slowly returning migraine—Jack couldn't help but think back to what the demon had said. Was Anti really just bored?

.::.

Filtering innocently through drawn shades, the soft rays of the sun's light felt as though they were being drawn back with the force of a rage he'd only felt once-maybe twice before and let loose to whale away at the base of his skull with sledgehammers. Groaning, the Irishman slowly sat up in his bed, a hand moving to cradle the side of his head as he struggled to focus on anything _but_ the wailing in the back of his mind, no doubt a happy wake-up call from the chaos-hungering demon that lingered there.

Absently, Jack couldn't help but wonder when he'd ended up going to bed, with the last thing he could remember being that he was talking to Anti through his bathroom mirror. Had the demon taken over at some point in the night and actually done something  _nice_ for once?

Shuffling slowly out of his room, it took the detective to notice the two figures in his living room, staring blankly at them as his mind worked sluggishly to make sense of it. Mark seemed comfortable enough on his couch, lightly snoring away on the false-leather couch while his demon-  _Dark_ , Jack reminded himself- simply seemed to be looking over Jack's nearby bookshelf with a bored air about him.

"... What're you two doin'-" Jack started, only to be cut off abruptly from the silencing  _hiss_ that tore itself from the demon's throat as a monochrome form spun to face him, crimson eyes giving the impression as though they were mere pools of liquid magma. Startled by the sudden shift in posture, Jack waited a moment for Dark to smooth out the front of his suit-coat. 

 _"He received a text from you in the middle of the night. Brought enough worry to him that it was disrupting his sleep cycle, and ended with him coming all the way out here to make sure you were alright."_ Dark explained after a moment, his voice lowered seemingly as to not wake his slumbering bond-mate on the couch.

Slowly nodding, Jack couldn't help but wonder just what Dark was talking about, as far as he knew, he hadn't talked to Mark since the other man had run off from the phone in an attempt to stop Dark from eating  _something_ \- Jack paused, making a mental note to ask Mark later what it was that Dark was evidently teething on when the demon was further away, and didn't risk drawing the scorn of the rather unnerving entity.

Moments passed as the two simply stared at each other, Jack from not knowing what all to do with his sleeping partner and his demon in his living room, and Dark simply because he didn't want to look away first-something about pride? Though, after a few seconds, the demon turned away, returning to his searching of Jack's bookshelf, and leaving the Irishman to his thoughts. Wait, hadn't Anti been screaming a few seconds ago? Nodding to himself, Jack made yet  _another_ mental note to ask what happened to the chaotic demon when he was certain that the other was in a better mood than the one he'd woken up in. 

Turning away from the pair, Jack decided to busy himself with going about his regular morning routine, ending up in the kitchen attempting to work the coffee machine that seemed as though someone had gone at it with a knife. Frowning at the struggling machine, Jack glanced back into his living room, seeing Dark simply make himself at home on the recliner, one of many sparsely read books situated in the demon's lap.

He made another mental note to get the demon more books as an attempted peace offering, he never did feel like the demon liked him, at all really.

Turning his attention back to the coffee pot, Jack gave the small machine a few pokes, as if hoping it would speed up from it, though no such thing happened. The small coffee pot merely continuing on its leisurely pace of spitting out a vaguely drinkable substance- Jack would  _really_ have to ask Anti a few questions later, too many electronics in his house were starting to malfunction around him with no apparent reasoning for it to just be a coincidence.

"... Did the coffee pot offend you or somethin, Jack?" Came Mark's voice, startling the Irishman out of his thoughts, far too distracted to have heard the other man's approach into the kitchen until he was already there. 

Turning to face him, Jack spared a moment to look him over, about as disheveled as he normally looked in the mornings. Whatever had happened didn't seem to have bothered with Mark at all. Maybe he was just doing things in the middle of the night and forgot about it again.

"-ack? You listening?" Mark called, yet again as he waved a hand in front of his face. Bringing the Irishman back to the present with a quiet swear at the knowledge he'd zoned out yet again. "-alking to Anti already? It's only 10 in the morning." Mark continued, his voice seeming to fade in and out for a few moments as Jack forced himself to focus on what the other man was saying.

Oh right, he was working on taking care of breakfast... 

.::.

The hustle and bustle of the office eased stressed nerves, a familiar setting among all the chaos that had been his morning so far. Of course, the comfort of the familiar dull roar of the building vanished abruptly as the building seemed to fall silent, as if everyone within had been given the very same order of focusing on their computer monitors, or dull paperwork instead of going about their usual friendliness in the day.

Blinking a few times, it took Jack a moment to realize  _why_ the air was so tense, shifting his gaze towards Dark as the demon seemed to have little interest in  _not_ making sure everyone in the building knew he was there. A tap at the demon's shoulder seeming to get the point through the monochrome'd entities mind as the oppressive air steadily lessened at the roll of the demon's neck—Jack swore he could hear the sound of cracking bone at the gesture, though said nothing on it.

Like a switch had been flipped, the life seemed to flow back into the building, the familiar chatter returning with an excited buzz to the air. Why all the excitement, Jack didn't know. What he  _did_ know, was that Mark was currently trying to drag a rather disinterested demon through cubicles without the ethereal being attempting to murder someone with a single look.

... He should probably help with that, now shouldn't he.  _But,_ this was an opportunity to just watch Mark try to get someone- _As bull headed as he was—_ Jack shut the thought off immediately, a frown making it's way to his face at the familiar frustration of the incorporeal demon pulling at the edges of his sanity.

He  _Really_ needed to ask Mark—or even Dark himself at this point—how Dark was managing to shut the chaotic antics from Anti down with a simple  _look_. There weren't even threats of violence or anything! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a fun fact; I have the outline of each chapter in a little notebook that I write in any time that I have a free moment in class. So far I'm up to chapter... 19-20ish, though the number of actual chapters will depend on how closely I stick to it if I add more between them or not.


	4. The Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys give some observations on their... partners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to say that we're already starting to get to a good part in the chapters I have outlined, and it's only the 3rd (official) chapter.
> 
> Still kinda in Jack's PoV, but it's necessary for reasons.
> 
> (i know I said every tuesday or thursday, but I got too excited and had to post this chapter now)

"Seriously Mark, he shuts him up faster than duct tape over a mouth." Jack stated, though after a moment had to pause in the realization that he  _really_ could have chosen a better metaphor, though the time for that had passed, it was already out there; having babies and probably looking for a way to irreparably destroy this entire conversation. 

Wow his mind wandered fast.

Forcing his mind back into the present, Jack focused on the thoughtful expression making itself known on his partner's face. A brow quirking slightly in question before the other detective cleared his throat.

"Well... now that you mention it, there have been some differences that I've noticed between when Dark was just a voice up here—"he paused to tap at the side of his head "to now..." Mark said, a finger tapping on the surface of his desk before shaking his head. "But I'm doubt that it's related in any way." He explained, though a snort from Jack had the man squinting in a mock sense of hurt.

"Oh come on, you said it yourself, it ain't normal to be trying to eat  _a tide pod."_ Jack said, doing his best to keep his laughter down before the monochrome demon came back in demanding to know what the loud noises were about. He didn't need to explain to an angry demon that he was laughing at  _him trying to eat a fucking pod of laundry detergent._

"Alright alright! I get it, yeesh. Can't even be a little mysterious anymore can I?" Mark pouted, arms crossing over his chest as Jack heaved a heavy sigh, blatantly ignoring the almost chipper cackling in the back of his mind.

_Nope! Not anymore Fishfuck!_

"SO!" Jack started, clapping his hands together to get Mark's focus back on him—and absently hoping that the sound didn't draw Dark back to them, because then it'd just be difficult to explain  _anything_ with that demon lingering over them. "What sorta changes did your demonic doppelganger go through by bein' dragged up to our plane of hell?" He asked, waiting with near baited breath as Mark lifted a hand in a 'one second' motion, digging through a bag that the Irishman hadn't even noticed he'd brought with him to the office. 

As Mark sat back up, Jack had to suppress the bark of laughter that threatened to escape his throat, the sight of the other detective just waving around a  _Lisa-fucking-frank Patterned Notebook_ like it wasn't a big deal? Had he not been there to see it, the Irishman likely would've just thought someone was joking about it. But nope, here he was sitting across from his partner waving around a  _Neon. Fucking. Notebook_ that looked like it belonged in the 90's.

The sound of Mark clearing his throat had Jack forcing himself back to the topic at hand—mentally scolding Anti for even focusing so heavily on the notebook in the first place—as the other detective flipped the brightly colored notebook open, skipping past a couple of pages with messily scrawled notes—Jack made another mental note (he was gonna need a filing cabinet at this point, he figured) to ask what those were notes on- before seeming to find the one he wanted; the other man letting out a pleased hum as he smacked the notebook down on the desk.

Taking the silent hint, Jack carefully picked up the notebook—oh  _god_ he could feel the glitter attaching to his hands—and set to skimming over the messily scrawled notes.

 _\- Seems really irritable lately,  
_ " _Aggression keeps rising from the simplest of incidents, had to stop him from breaking the coffee pot when it 'burned him' despite being warned that it was just turned off and would be extremely hot for at least another hour. Also resorted to carving up house furniture like a giant man-demon-cat using the excuse he was **decorating** instead of being destructive. He ruined a lot of furniture..."_

Jack couldn't suppress the snort that came from an extra note just under the entry

_(Maybe see if there's a way I can trim his claws down or something? Like a cat, maybe get him an actual scratching post so he'll stop using the damn curtains.)_

Shaking his head lightly, Jack let out a wheezing breath from the effort of keeping himself from completely losing his composure and laughing at his Best Friend's written suffering; though such effort fell flat as another—louder—bark of laughter managed to tear itself from his throat at seeing the next entry, having to clap a hand over his mouth to keep his "unnatural" volume from bugging any of his other co-workers.

_\- Sass  
"Seems really fuckin' sassy, always has to snap something back like I'm personally offending him by existing. Damn man, that's cold."_

Setting the notebook back down with a dramatic flourish—Jack could have sworn that he'd just seen an entire bottle of glitter come flying off of that neon, sparkling cover, looking back up at Mark with what dignity he still had left in his body. Straightening up slowly-and wincing at the sheer amount of glitter he'd have stuck in his clothes for the rest of eternity-Jack gestured towards the Notebook, wordlessly asking Mark what exactly his complete thoughts on the issues were. 

"I can't say exactly why he'd be acting out this way, but it's so... different from how he was  _before_ we brought him here, like he's-"

Mark's statement was cut short by the sudden, shrill  _screaming_ of the siren, a noise that had them both clapping hands over their ears and mentally cursing whoever had put in the sirens to make them so  _fucking loud._ Within moments, a familiar heaviness overtook the air, seeming to drown out the siren as Jack managed to crack his eyes back open, seeing the red and blue figures pulsing across the side of Mark's desk. It didn't take long for Dark to make himself known from around the corner, crimson eyes glowing with an otherworldly light as the demon fixed an unblinking gaze on the pair of humans in front of him.

At once, the silence was broken, the ringing of the alarm seeming further off in the distance, however, as Dark spoke; his gaze trained firmly on Mark as a gray hand was offered to help the demon's bond-mate from behind the wooden structure that Jack hadn't even noticed had been shoved against the wall. 

 **"The alarm is going off, and I'm bored of staying in here."** There was no room for argument in the demons tone, a statement instead of a suggestion for the trio to deal with the cause of the alarm's blaring sound. Scrubbing at his face, Jack heaved a heavy sigh. If it was true a bonded demon became even  _marginally_ stronger after being brought to the corporeal plane—A memory of the demon's first attempt at working with Mark filtered through his mind, the complete and utter fucking chaos the pair had caused from the awkward movements having been quite a bit of frustration for the department's head—then they'd need some clean up crews following after them or  _something._

**.::.**

Hands tugged at the sides of the jacket, trying to bring the fabric impossibly closer to his body with a shiver. With how the wind was lashing, seeming to chill him to the very bones, Jack could have almost guessed it was the middle of the winter.  _Could have_ being the key parts of the thought, had he not looked at the calendar hanging in his house to tell him it was  _the middle of_ _July._

Blue hues focused on the demon ahead of him, squinting at the entities apparent obliviousness towards the frigid cold that was beginning to prey on his accompanying humans. A crack of the demon's neck had him looking ahead, having learned to associate the motion—while he was bound to Mark as a simple ride-along at least—with the demon preparing for some form of conflict, the pulse of the familiar aura only solidifying his assumption as a low  _hiss_ seemed to echo out, and respond to it.

While unsure of what exactly Dark was taunting, Jack could already feel Anti pushing at the edge of his consciousness, frigid talons curling at his shoulders with an energy burning deep in his chest. Jack glanced back, as if expecting to see the incorporeal demon's form bouncing just behind him as the energy boiling in his veins seemed to suggest, knowing without the demon even speaking what it was Anti was getting at.

He was  _Excited._

 **"You're aware you're on claimed territory, are you not?"** Came Dark's low baritone—a mere step above a growl if the Irishman had to guess—snapping him out of his reflection over Anti's sudden energetic display in the back of his skull. Shaking his head, Jack turned his attention back towards the corporeal demon, expecting to see Mark standing at his left as he had been the whole time they were walking, though was instead met with a startled, blinking Mark instead, with Dark nowhere to be seen around him.

"The fuck did he go?" Jack found himself— _Anti—_ demanding, eyes narrowing slightly at the other detective. 

"He... Just fucking disappeared" Mark said slowly, as if attempting to believe his own words. Confusion hit him, how could Mark lose  _his own bound demon?_ Though it seemed the detective ahead of him seemed to pick up on the wordless question.

"I looked away for a moment and he just... disappeared from right here." He explained, motioning towards the patch of pavement that seemed suspiciously darker than the rest of the fractured sidewalk. "When I looked back I could barely see him up there."Mark finished, motioning ahead towards a slowly decaying building. If Jack focused hard enough on the distant building, he could  _vaguely_ make out the shape of Dark's figure.

A loud  _boom_ had his words dying on his tongue the moment he'd thought to speak, a tremor snaking its way through the ground as panic shot through his veins, his mind urging him to get  _away_ from the scene, while the combined sense from both Anti, and the need to make sure Mark didn't just throw himself into some sort of confrontation between Dark and another (well meaning!) mind-bound demon had him chasing after the other man, rounding the corner mere seconds after Mark.

Needless to say, he hadn't expected the scene to have played out quite like it had upon rounding the corner. 

All at once, the screaming in his head stopped—even Anti having fallen silent at the display—leaving Jack to look over the pure  _destruction_ that seemed to have found a way to occur in under a minute. Slowly, his gaze followed the trail, the buildings around them shattered further, and spattered with blood and some other unidentifiable liquid. Finally his focus came to the center of the destruction, where everything seemed too  _clean_ and  _neat_ to have just had a fight occur. 

"What the  _fuck"_ A thought that clawed its way from his brain into the air without much struggle as he met the bored gaze of Dark. Seeing the demon's form fracture and reform at the edges as his aura seemed to crawl with icy tendrils away from his body; only to be yanked back in with a crack of the corporeal demon's neck.

 **"That one was weak."** Dark sighed, his voice echoing briefly around the destroyed buildings as he ran a hand through smoothed back hair, as if attempting to fix hairs out of place. He still seemed in pristine condition, as if he hadn't just been the cause of the recent explosion Jack noted, turning his gaze towards his partner with the intent of questioning the other man to ensure that Anti  _hadn't_ just decided to mess with what he was currently seeing in some way shape or form. Though a pulse of Dark's aura-abrupt and without any warning-had the Irishman instinctively jolting back, habitually reaching back to the rider demon in his mind and feeling the familiar sear of latent energy burn in his veins.

Blue hues opened slowly, as if expecting another explosion to shatter the almost serene peace that seemed to hang over the site. Though it occurred to the Irishman mere moments after glancing back towards the center crater, that Dark had moved. And he'd moved  _fast._ A slight mental nudge—Anti's way of drawing attention to himself in loud, or tense situations where Jack needed to focus—had him humming in acknowledgement, the sensation of the incorporeal demon 'sharing the driving seat' as he liked to call it a familiar comfort to ease frayed nerves.

The growl that echoed from beside him had a dual gaze snapping towards his left, his throat seeming to close as he took in the sight of Dark carefully lifting Mark onto his hip without much of a struggle-as though the other man weighed nothing-before he'd fixed a searing gaze on his face; the edges of his figure seeming to shatter like glass as pulses of red and blue managed to break through the cracks, showing the usually composed demon's unruly temper.

 **"He's unconscious."** Dark spoke, voice clipped as flaming hues flickered briefly off of Jack's face, observing the surroundings as if  _looking_ for something.  **"He needs to be brought back to the humans."** He stated simply, the forced calm to the demon's voice solidifying the single thought in Jack's joined mind.

_Dark was Pissed._

"What  **happ-** happened to him?" Jack asked, ignoring the brief glitch to his voice that he knew happened from the demon seeming to currently be 'piggy-backing' on his mind. Though the  _growl_ that emanated from the other demon's throat had glitched thoughts immediately shutting up, yet another thing Jack would have to poke about at a later date, specifically one where he wasn't trying to keep his body from being completely riddled with anxiety-yet another silent  _thank you_ that the Irishman couldn't help but send towards the portion of his conscious that he knew Anti liked to linger in-at the sight of his partner sitting unconscious on the Demon's hip like he were just a child being held by their mother.

**"Energy drain."**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://a4.images.mywebroom.com/image/upload/c_fit,d_default_image_all.png,h_540,w_540/v1413573882/43665-items_design--image_name_selection-lisa-frank-notebook-writing-assorted.jpg) is 100% the notebook that Mark's been writing his observations down in okay.


	5. Mark & Jack (feat. A little Dark!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, yet another early chapter because I'm an impatient soul. The good parts'll be in the next chapter, since I have a good plan for it. Anyway, without further adieu;
> 
> Marks PoV!

The first thing he notices as he comes back into consciousness, is the  _pounding_ in the back of his skull, and the cold that seems to make up his entire body. Next is the low snarling; a noise that makes his heart rate quicken and his chest tighten, the sound gradually getting louder, and  _deeper_ the more he focuses on it. 

His eyes crack open, expecting to be blinded by the rays of light that filter in through his bedroom window. Though as the discomfort never comes, it takes a moment for Mark's brain to process the ever present darkness around him. A pained groan escapes his throat as he struggles to try and straighten himself out, to sit up so that his ribs aren't trying to become intimate with his lungs. 

The growl stops abruptly, plunging the area into an eerie silence as Mark raises his gaze from the floor, trying to make sense of where he was before the surroundings began to make sense. Gradually, the color returned to the oak wood of his desk as Dark's oppressing aura recedes into the demon, feeling a frigid hand at his back.

**"Stop struggling, you're not in the best condition.** " Came Dark's low baritone, his voice making Mark pause to squint slightly in an attempt to figure out where the Demon was standing, see as he—for some reason—couldn't see the demon's figure.

There was a moment of silence, where he could feel crimson eyes as they seem to bore into him, watching with some form of emotion—at least he _thought_ it was emotion, all he knew was that there was a tug at his chest, like there had been  _before_ he'd woken up in the middle of his office like it was some type of weird horror movie he was in the middle.

As the rest of Dark's aura finally retreated into the demon, Mark could breathe easier, no longer feeling the pressure around his throat like he was being suffocated. Though with the retreat of the aura, a rush of noise exploded into his office, aggravating his already temperamental headache that seemed to have the goal of trying to tear his head apart. 

"How's he doin' in there?" Came Jack's familiar accent, the Irishman opening the door carefully to peer in at Dark as if he were expecting the demon to whirl around and show him the 18th layer of hell or some other bullshit like that.

**"He's conscious, responsive, and likely suffering from a headache."** The demon answered after a moment, as if he'd been debating whether or not to cooperate with the Irish detective before he'd ultimately decided  _not_ to be a dick that day—what a surprise!

"That's good to hear, Chief was tearin' my ass a new one for Anti's bullshit back there. Said he'd come talk to Mark once he was certain that he'd all recovered and shit." Jack explained. Mark could hear the shuffling of fabric that signaled his partner walking into the room, the click of the door shutting confirming his suspicion before the familiar mop of dyed hair appeared from behind Dark's wavering shoulder.

"There ya are, how you feelin'?" Jack asked, stepping around the faintly growling demon to crouch at Mark's other side. Managing to push himself into a sitting position, Mark gave a silent frown, only now noticing that he was surrounded by various blankets and pillows. He was going to have to ask who built the  _fucking nest_ in the middle of his office at some point, preferably when Dark wasn't looking like he wanted to strangle either Jack  _or_ Mark and only being held back from doing so because of the rules of the contract that Mark had set down.

"Well I feel like shit, for one." He started, rubbing at the side of his skull with a low groan, silently willing the headache away. It didn't leave, in fact it just seemed to spitefully get stronger, the fucker.

"Sounds about right." Jack agreed, nodding slightly at the detective's comment before pushing himself up, instead deciding to sit on the edge of Mark's desk like it were just another couch in the office. 

Allowing his hand to fall back into the mess of pillows and blankets, Mark squinted slightly at the duo in front of him, the forced composure on his demonic doppleganger's face, the worry from Jack as if he were expecting some sort of bad news. It made him uncomfortable, especially considering the two of them had been much more lively- in Jack's case at least, before the siren for the demon alert had even gone  _off,_ leading him to one possibility.

_Something_ happened while he was passed out, and the suspicion of it only strengthened when he remembered the recent comment about the Chief giving Jack shit over something  _Anti_ had done. Last he knew, Anti hadn't been out since the  _last_ time they were after a demon, when Dark was still a ride-along.

"... Alright there's something wrong here and it's bugging me, Jack what happened while I was out? You mentioned something about Anti, what'd he do?" Mark questioned, watching the Irishman stiffen, and hearing the low buzz in the room seem to deepen into a growl rumbling in the depths of Dark's chest. Brown hues focused on clear blue, waiting for the other man to speak before he'd started fidgeting with his hands, a sign the other man was trying to think of something to say.

Finally, Jack let out a heavy sigh, shoulders falling with tension Mark hadn't noticed his partner had been holding, before the Irishman spoke.

"He almost got out of control," Jack started hesitantly, though paused to glance towards Dark seeing as the demon hadn't turned to face him yet. "... He's mad,  _really_ mad, Mark. I can hear 'em yellin at me in the back o' my skull where he likes to just sit and tear away at things all the time." He muttered, voice going quiet- nearly inaudible over the growling that emanated from Dark's throat.

"What do you mean he 'almost' got out of control?" Mark pressed, already not liking the feeling of dread that was creeping at his back- something he couldn't help but attribute to the way Dark's form was starting to flicker. Turning his attention towards Dark, holding a hand up in a 'one moment' gesture towards Jack; he fixed his gaze on crimson hues. Wordlessly pointing towards the door with his other hand as the growl only deepened, arguing wordlessly with a silent command.

"Dark, go wait outside until one of us calls you back in. You're making it hard to breathe in here." He said after a moment, seeing the stubbornness from the normally composed demon flare briefly before the command seemed to take effect. Watching as the Demon's growl quieted briefly as he moved smoothly from the room, the door closing with a quiet  _click_ behind him. As soon as Dark left, the tension seemed to bleed from the air, Jack's form relaxing further against the desk as he rubbed at his face. 

"It's kinda hard to explain without goin' back through the whole time you were out, Mark." Jack said after a moment, only to pause as Mark gave a quick shrug. 

"Then go ahead, I've got time."

**.::.**

_**"Energy Drain"**_ Dark rumbled, adjusting his hold on his bond-mate before he'd focused back on Jack's face.  **"It won't kill him, just leave him weakened for a little while until he gets the energy back."** Dark explained without being asked, only to gesture with his free hand in the vague direction the group had come from.  **"Start back that way, I'll carry this one."** He'd said, seeming content with the fact Jack hadn't protested to his directions as the Irishman moved to follow, trusting that Dark wasn't about to be some sort of asshole and just abruptly disappear from behind him and reappear somewhere ahead of him. He'd done it once, and Jack didn't want to know what it would do to an unconscious Mark.

Plus he didn't feel like having to tell Mark when he inevitably woke back up that Dark decided to do  _yet another_ vanishing act that he just hadn't come back from yet. That would be embarrassing.

**.::.**

"Wait, so that all seems normal so far, what'd Anti do in any of that?" Mark interrupted, jarring the Irishman from his retelling of the few hours prior. Unabashedly, the detective met the sudden annoyed grunt from his partner as Jack shifted around on the desk to try and get comfortable again on the smooth wood. 

"I was gettin' to that part." Jack huffed, arms crossing over his chest as he seemed to find a spot deemed reasonably comfortable; though before he could continue to explain, Mark couldn't help but interrupt yet again.

"I don't need a whole story telling time, Jack. Just-" He paused briefly, hands moving aimlessly in front of his chest as he attempted to figure out what he was trying to say. "-Just give me the summary of what happened." Mark finished, seeming pleased with the solution he'd found to the dilemma—It being Jack's apparent need to start the explanation from the beginning, and Marks impatience. Sighing heavily, the Irishman ran a hand over his face. 

"Anti hadn't gone back to his corner-room-area-place like I'd expected him to do since there wasn't any fightin' around. He just, didn't do anything while he was still ridin', and I hadn't thought anythin' of it 'til we got closer to the station." Jack started, motioning towards the window that Mark noted silently had the wardrobe-like structure shoved in front of it to block the light from filtering in through the blinds. "I called ahead to let the medical team know you needed to be looked at for something, so they were expecting us when we got close enough to the building to be seen from the door."

"They just hadn't anticipated that you were being carried by your Demon like he'd just rescued you from a tree-" Mark made a disgruntled noise, though Jack ignored it and continued on. "They came out to take you from him, and Dark reacted with hostility, spiking his aura bullshit until we couldn't see straight. But, that didn't stop the ones who had riders of their own, since their partners were probably anticipating it from him-" Mark quietly took note of the fact that Jack's story seemed to be picking up, his words beginning to come out in a rush as though he were still living the adrenaline rush that came from such confrontations.

"Anti- he tried to take over fully. Fuck Mark, he  _did_ take over fully. I didn't know what was goin' on. One second I was tryin to help the medical team get Dark to let go of you, and the next  _I'm_ the one being pried off of people." The Irishman shook his head frantically, as though attempting to scatter the memories. "The chief yanked me into his office, demanded to know what the fuck happened-"

" _Jack_ " Mark interrupted, already seeing the telltale signals of a panic-induced demon encounter. "Take a deep breath Jack, you said Anti's pissed at you? What do you mean?" He asked, waiting until the Irishman actually followed the instructions before continuing.

"He's been pissed at me for damn near a week now, and he ain't told me shit as to why" Jack finally sighed, no doubt struggling to ignore the demons shouting. Mark frowned lightly at the news, trying to figure out what exactly would have riled Anti up to have him furious for so long. Last he knew, Anti was the type of demon to just get mad for an hour or so, find something else to catch his attention, and then forget. 

Abruptly, Mark sat straight, the timeline finally clicking into place as he fixed his gaze on his partner.

"Is he pissed about Dark?"

The Irishman stared at him for a moment, blinking rapidly at his partner's words before Mark continued on to explain.

"Think about it! The timing lines up, you said he started getting pissy with you almost a week ago; Dark's been corporeal for almost the entire week." Mark explained, drawing any similarities he could think of to try and give Jack some form of explanation for his demon's reactions.

"Mark I'm not sure we should be accusing' Anti of being  _jealous._ " Jack warned, though flinched back from an unseen force, Mark only sighing heavily at his partner's words before he continued on.

"Dark and Anti have been like partners since you and I were put in the same department; you've seen how well they work together" He explained, pausing for a moment in thought "...almost too well" he added quietly, though gave a quick shrug of his shoulders as he continued still. "Hell, I'm pretty sure that if Anti was made corporeal first, Dark would be doing the same thing..." Yet another pause as Jack's expression screwed up into something vaguely resembling humor at the prospect of Dark acting more like Anti in the situation.

"Have you thought about just letting him out?" Mark finally asked, looking over the Irishman's posture as he stiffened at the suggestion.

"... I can't let him out Mark, you know how unruly he is-" Jack started, though his concerns were waves away by the other detective.

"You said it yourself, Dark can just give you a look and he calms right down, who's to say he wouldn't do the same if Anti was made corporeal?"

"Who's to say that he  _would_ do the same, Mark?"

Mark gave a pause, letting the thought sink in for a moment before he gave a shrug.

"It's in his contract. If Anti became a threat, he'd have to step in."


	6. Anti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Comes Anti!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack's PoV!

Jack grimaced at the low buzzing in the back of his skull, setting down the old computer tower with a grunt of effort. He didn't know why the old electronics were so important to the demon, but they were something that Anti was  _insisting_ was absolutely necessary for the ritual to be effective. Blue hues darted to the side, watching his partner as he'd calmly directed Dark to set the other tower down on the last remaining rune.

All in all, it looked as through the trio were surrounded by some weird altar that was supposed to be praising an old god that took the form of some sort of computer, what with the almost ancient looking computer monitor set suspiciously in the center of the ritual circle. A snort resonated through his mind, glitched and echoing, telling the Irishman he'd forgotten to block that thought out from the mischievous demon that was essentially riding on his shoulders. 

**"What else does he want placed?"** Came Dark's low growl of a voice, snapping the detective's attention back to the demon as his crimson gaze seemed to be trying to burn a hole directly through him—judging by the slight smirk that pulled at the edge of the monochrome demon's lips, Jack had failed in suppressing the full body shudder.

_Missing a few wires, oh hey add your phones too- OR WAIT NO—_ Jack suppressed a wince at the sudden roar of volume in the back of his skull, mimicking the sound the demon's voice would have been had he suddenly leaned over Jack's shoulder and shouted directly into his ear—  _All that's missing is a bit of blood. Come on Jackie boy, use it._

Jack grimaced, glancing down at the knife that Dark had brought up with them—honestly, the Irishman hadn't been keen on asking  _why_ it was necessary for Dark to bring it with them, and such excitement had only plummeted further when the monochrome demon had explained to him that Anti had...  _quirks_ that would likely have to end up in the ritual as well. Dark must have noticed where Jack's gaze lingered, having easily made his way across the rooftop in only a few quick strides to grasp the smooth black handle of the knife. 

**"Anti, regardless of how much you may want in this ritual, you must remember that the source is human."** Dark rumbled, fixing his now obsidian gaze on the Irishman's face, though Jack knew he wasn't looking  _at_ him- rather he was looking  _through_ him. Towards Anti, instead. There was a beat of silence before Anti's grumble in his mind had Jack holding back a snort, allowing his body to relax at the rider demon's dejected tone.

_Fine. Just put the knife somewhere in the circle, it'll have to do._

"He said just put the knife down somewhere in the circle," Jack relayed, watching the faint rise of Dark's brow before the demon merely turned away to impale the knife somewhere into the roof-where exactly, Jack wasn't sure, too preoccupied by the sudden warmth at his arm that signaled Mark's approach.

"He's behaving." Jack said, answering an unasked question as he glanced over towards brown hues, seeing the unspoken relief in the other man's gaze before he'd nodded and turned back towards the circle, an abrupt shattering of glass drawing Jack's attention towards the other demon. Dark standing in the middle and looking over his handiwork, as if appraising it's worth, and for a moment, Jack was confused—at least until he noticed the knife's plastic handle sticking out of the shattered computer screen.

_Just hurry it up, I'm getting bored in here and the rest of the shit I'd want we can't exactly get in legal terms._

Jack gave yet another long-suffering sigh, quietly thanking the fact that Anti had long since stopped trying to get Jack to simply grab things off shelves at stores, or off the desks of his fellow officers, just because the item was  _shiny._ Rolling his shoulders, the Irishman stepped forward into the circle, his quiet approach being acknowledged by the low  _rumble_ that rose from Dark's chest; the sound sending a momentary wave of instinctual  _fear_ through his system before Anti's own echoing growl resonated in the back of his mind.

"Alright, Anti's sayin' that's all he needs for this, though... I'm gettin' the feelin' that one o' you two might need to stand in for some reason." Jack sighed, wincing lightly at the affirming sensation that brushed surprisingly careful against his mind, as if the demon were gathering his energy.

Dark moved to step forward, though the hand on the demon's chest had him pausing—Jack noted the conflicted look that flashed through the demon's eyes as Mark stepped forward, instead. 

_When had Mark joined them?_

"Dark, you just stay back there, I'm not exactly sure what effect you'll have on this." Mark explained, motioning his demonic-partner towards one of the lawn chairs that had been set up— _When did they set those up?_ Jack wondered briefly, before the sound of Mark's footsteps had him snapping back to the present, the other man taking his place in the only other empty circle around the ring of the 'electronic graveyard' as Jack had mentally dubbed it.

For a moment, the duo stood in silence, waiting for Dark to make his way out of the ritual circle. Hues of blue and brown meeting each other before a quick nod from Mark had Jack turning his attention to the middle of the circle; feeling the tug at his chest, and spike of energy in the air. The very ground under them seemed to glitch, warping and shattering under its own weight before immediately reforming and twisting around into new forms. As though someone were taking an image and merely pulling pieces around with the smudge tool.

It was a sight that Jack hated to admit, he was more than familiar with. The faint cackle of obnoxious laughter only strengthening the feeling of familiarity that the sensation gave to him. Faintly, he could hear the low rumble of Dark's answering growl, and feel the pulse of his oppressive aura from just outside of the circle. It seemed the glitching only worsened in retaliation to the pulse, the computer towers around the duo appearing to break apart, piece by piece and fall into a slowly opening chasm that seemed to swallow everything in it's way—including the ancient, shattered monitor that Dark had decided to use as a knife block.

Wordlessly, Jack walked slowly towards the chasm, crouching at the edge and offering his hand, something in the back of his mind urging him forward as though it were the right course of action to take. He tried not to shiver at the spike of frigid air that rushed out to meet him, or even jump back at the sudden clawed hand that reached out to grasp him around his wrist, the grip dangerously tight—like a bracelet of thorns. Yet, the grip never wavered, instead it seemed to be struggling to pull the rest of itself up, as if relying on Jack to give it the anchor it needed to haul itself the rest of the way from the chasm.

The Irishman bit back the quiet grunt that threatened to escape his throat, having to use his other hand to secure his grip around the glitching hand's form, tugging up lightly to test the weight on the other side—the tug back had him nearly tumbling in, though another burst of frigid air seemed to shove him back, too far however, as his balance shifted, his weight leaning too far back into the empty air behind him. 

As he fell back, Jack couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he ended up blacking out in the middle of the ritual... knowing Anti, probably death, likely his own. Bracing himself for an impact that never came, the Irishman slowly cracked open an eye, seeing himself near parallel with the ground, yet the tight grip of his wrist kept him from falling the rest of the way. 

Slowly, Jack turned his head to try and see the hand, and while yes—the hand was still there, very much clawed and holding onto his wrist like their life depended on it, Jack hadn't expected to see the face grinning back at him—or, well more accurately...  _His_ face grinning back at him.

**"You're already falling to your knees for me Jackieboy? I'm flattered."**

Jack made a mental note to smack Anti with a stack of paperwork after the ritual was over.

**.::.**

A grunt of effort left the Irishman's throat as he pushed himself to his feet, knees quaking in silent warning before Jack collapsed back onto the blackened rooftop, unable to stop the hiss of pain that escaped from his through in reaction to the sharp jolt that raced through his system. A hand appeared briefly in his peripheral, the skin tone appearing an almost sickly green before Jack slowly turned his head to examine the rest of Anti's body, his gaze fixated on the large bleeding gash across the demon's throat. Warily, he accepted the demon's hand, being all but yanked onto his feet and left to stumble forward a few paces before another hand on his shoulder steadied him.

**"You should know better than that."** Came Dark's voice, drawing Jack's attention to the gray hand keeping him steady, blue hues shifting towards his own demon standing just a foot or so away, his arms crossed over his chest with a heavy scowl of what Jack could only describe to be displeasure.

**"I-it's not m-my fault h-h-he's _weak._ "** Anti hissed, seeming to stutter momentarily from what the Irishman could only assume to be annoyance at the monochrome demon's accusation. 

**"Actually, It is. Your summoning here drained his energy, Anti. You of all people should know that much."** Dark said smoothly, his voice seemingly layered with disinterest as the monochrome demon released Jack's shoulder, apparently having felt the detective's legs stop trembling from the effort of keeping him standing.  **"You should be more grateful that your _Partner_ -** **"** Dark seemed to hiss the word  _'Partner'_ as though the word itself would poison him.  **"Was generous enough to _let_ you come to this plane." **He'd finished, moving easily to take the knife from Mark.

Jack hadn't even seen the other man approach, let alone grab the kitchen utensil from the rooftop.

There was a growl of frustration from the discolored demon, his head being thrown back briefly to let out a groan of annoyance, as if even the thought of being  _grateful_ was just some inconvenience to Anti's very existence. Honestly, Jack couldn't help but wonder if it was just a foreign concept to his demonic partner.

"-Dark's right, Jack's probably more exhausted than he's letting on just from helping make your body." Came Mark's voice, snapping Jack back into the conversation. A brow raised as he felt the static-filled presence behind him seem to intensify briefly before it had settled down, the clawed hand appearing back on his shoulder as Jack turned his attention to Anti— _When had the demon moved to stand behind him?_

"-Sound good Jack?" Yet again, Jack found himself not listening, a delayed ' _huh?'_ leaving his throat before Dark had heaved a long-suffering sigh, what patience the demon had seemed to be wearing thin, judging by the slight fractures around the monochrome figure, where shots of blue and red seemed to pierce through the ever-present shadow. Just the sight alone reminded the Irishman about the events that had happened earlier in the day, bringing a frown to his face.

"Jack?" Mark called again, waiting until he'd gotten the Irishman to look at him before he'd continued to speak, "our shifts are about to end here in like 10 minutes," He'd started, gesturing towards his watch and waiting for Jack to nod slowly before he'd decided to get to the point of what he was saying. "If you want to crash at my place since it's closer, that's fine by me. iIf not I can drop you off at your apartment, sound good?" He'd said, leaving Jack to nod again—not seeming to trust his own voice before Dark had decided to speak up, yet again.

**"Anti, you will behave. Regardless of which option your partner chooses. I will not tolerate hearing this one begin blubbering-"**

_"Hey!"_ Mark cut in

**"-just because you decided to do something that inadvertently ended with your partner's untimely death."** Dark growled, his aura seeming to radiate momentarily with his words before a light tap at his arm had the aura being reeled in again. An oppressive air that Jack hadn't noticed, vanishing with it to ease the effort the Irishman had to muster up in order to breathe properly.

"... I think I'll just crash at your place tonight, don't trust myself just yet." Jack muttered after a moment, lifting a hand to press against the side of his head, trying to will away the headache that he could already feel forming at the base of his skull.

"Alright," Mark nodded, pausing after a moment of looking Anti over before he seemed to remember something. "Oh! Chief told me he wanted Dark's information registry updated by the end of the month, since he's all physical and shit now-" Mark gestured towards the demon standing beside him. "I'm pretty sure he'll want the same thing done for Anti. So we can just get that knocked out tomorrow when you're awake, instead of both of us forgetting about it until last minute like we did last time..." The Irishman suppressed a snort of amusement at his partner's grimace, remembering the panic they'd both been in just to get their demons to cooperate and  _answer the damn questions_ just to get the pair of them registered properly.

"Sounds like a plan." Jack agreed after a moment, nodding lightly as he gave a quick shrug, hoping to work away the soreness that he already knew would be hitting him in the morning.

**"Why are we just standing here in a circle like a bunch of assholes. This is fucking boring."** Anti cut in after a moment of silence, the demon bouncing on his feel with barely contained energy. The air around him seemingly charged with an unknown energy, a ringing already beginning to develop in the otherwise silent air.

"... I'll take that as our cue to leave." Mark said after a moment in an attempt to diffuse the situation, already feeling the energy sparking from the demon beside him from Anti's words.

"Lets get going before these two take our waiting around to have a brawl on the rooftop or something." Jack joked, though a glance towards Anti had the Irishman pausing. Anti was  _far_ too excited at the prospect of fighting on a rooftop for him to be comfortable, meaning a joke had a very real possibility of becoming a reality.

 "Y-yeah, we should probably get going," Mark mumbled after a moment, gesturing towards the door as he all-but ran towards it, pulling the door open and making a sweeping gesture through the now open doorway. "After you Jack."


	7. Classifications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Dark/Anti in the chapter if you squint really, _really_ hard.
> 
> -nods-

It wasn't the chiming of his alarm that woke him, rather the loud disruption from the living room had Jack sitting upright, straining to hear what was being said as memories of the night before flooded his mind. Hurriedly, Jack flailed—yes,  _flailed—_ himself free of the blankets currently keeping him in the guest bed, not seeming to care for the fact he was still very much in a pair of loosely fitting pajamas before he'd crossed the stretch of the floor; swinging the door open without much of a dramatic flair and bolting out to try and stop whatever just happened from becoming something even worse. 

Sliding gracelessly into the kitchen, Jack paused for a moment, blinking rapidly at the sight of his demon being promptly bent over the counter and held there by Dark's hand on the back of his throat. 

"... Am I interrupting something...?" Jack said after a moment, barely managing to keep himself from flinching back as narrowed crimson eyes snapped to his face. Slowly, the monochrome demon straightened his stance, claws audibly separating from the smooth granite of the counter top before the low ringing that Jack hadn't even noticed fell silent. 

 **"No, nothing at all."** Came Dark's growl, drawing the Irishman's attention back from the partially destroyed counter top. Giving a slow nod to ease the tension he could feel rising in the air as Jack slowly started to back away from the kitchen.

"Alright well uh- Should probably go wake Mark up, we're supposed to get to work early today..." He trailed, waiting until he was out of sight from the two demons to let out a heavy sigh. "How the hell does he sleep through that noise?" Jack mused, rubbing a hand over his face before starting off in the vague direction of Mark's bedroom.

**.::.**

The quiet conversations around the office library were a welcome change from the constant, low droning buzz that emanated from the Monochrome demon. The Irishman heaving a quiet sigh as he stared down at the paperwork in front of him, a re-purposed K9 unit form. Why the office didn't just get their heads out of their asses and actually  _make_ a form specifically for a corporeal demon, he wasn't sure. Then again, as far as he knew, Dark and Anti  _were_ the only physical demons in their branch. Maybe the papers were branch specific and  _that's_ why they hadn't made a form besides using one for the K9 units to register the new dogs. 

"Any luck yet?" Jack said after a moment, glancing up towards his partner—pointedly ignoring Anti's attempt to steal the pens from the table. Mark gave a weak shrug in response, flipping through another aged-looking book, trying to find any information on the classifications for their demonic partners. 

"Not yet, all these books only have Information on the 'laws' they're supposed to abide by and shit." Mark answered after a moment, setting aside the book to grab another from his stack. Glancing down at the front, Mark hesitated, the golden letters imprinted on the front giving the book an odd feeling before he shook his head, opening the front cover with care, evidence having pointed to the book's lack of use—whether it was due to age or not, he wasn't sure. Only that the book was as fragile as though it were over 100 years old. Looking over the table of contents, the detective gave a curious hum,

"I think I found something, classifications on page 39." He said after a moment, glancing over towards the Irishman fending off Anti's grabbing hands. Figuring he'd let Jack know  _after_ he found what they needed—if it was even in the book—Mark turned his attention back to the yellowed pages. 

A motion in the corner of his eye brought Mark's attention back towards Jack, a brow raising in silent question before the Irishman spoke up—having finally shoo'd Anti away from the table long enough to correct how the papers were sitting.

"Well, go on then Mark. Read 'em out." Jack said, pulling out the unoccupied chair next to him and focusing back on keeping the wandering hands of his demon from snatching one of the papers. 

 "There's not that many classifications..." Mark started, counting over the smaller sub-headings within the chapter, "there's only 5 of them." he said, settling in at the table, easily relinquishing the registration paper in front of him to Dark. 

"First we have the Avili class of demons, they're Mind oriented, mostly found using a host body that they conned into accepting them... Generally follow a stronger demon, have a threat level of 3. The assessment here is listed as them being exceptionally weak when alone but dangerous in groups, send back on sight." Mark read, glancing up to see if either Anti or Dark reacted to the information, though with the lack of reaction from the pair, he continued on to the next heading.

"Berel class, most of the encountered Corporeal demons. They're often found in packs ranging from 3 to 5, though they mostly fight among themselves. Threat level is anywhere from 2 to 4, and their assessment is just to send back on sight." Another glance up at the pair showed no reactions, meaning on he went to the next heading. 

"Civari class, also known as a 'Shadow' these demons are incredibly rare, and a hassle to deal with. A self-proclaimed 'alpha species' that refuses to let this fact be forgotten, can and  _will_ bend other, weaker minds to their will, including other demons of the Avili and Berel class." Mark paused briefly to squint at the text, attempting to make sure he was reading it right before shaking his head, "that escalated really fast, their threat level is listed as a minimum of 10, and their assessment is to 'Avoid at all times, do not make contact while alone, and only if absolutely necessary." He sighed, setting the book down briefly to rub at his eyes, silently cursing his past self for forgetting his glasses on his nightstand. 

Glancing up towards the pair of demons revealed nothing, Dark merely looking over the paper in front of him in feigned interest, while Anti was now attempting to snatch the pen from the monochrome demon's grasp. 

"Next is the Galivi class of demon, also known as the 'Glitch'." Mark started, leaning back in his seat to pop his back before turning his attention back to the book, "Thought to have been extinct, this species thrives on chaos and mischief, easily told apart from the others by an unhinged smile and maniac eyes... Adept at utilizing technology, they have no  _known_ connections with the other classifications of demon." Mark read off, hesitating briefly with a glance towards Anti, though the demon didn't seem to notice, still laser focused on trying to get the pen away from Dark's grasp. 

"Threat level is at least a 10, and their assessment is basically identical to the Civari class, only adding in a warning about using electronics around them? Something about malfunctioning." He finished, shaking his head lightly before looking flipping to the next page, frowning heavily at the sudden jump in page numbers. "... Okay there's pages missing out of this, the last classification is on page 49, and the Galivi was just on page 40." He muttered, barely acknowledging Jack's hand on his shoulder before the Irishman spoke.

"Well, then we just have to hope those two aren't any of those missing classes, now huh?" Jack said, offering a strained looking smile—not seeming to notice Dark leaning across the table to slide the registration paper away from the Irishman. "So go ahead and read the last one off, worst comes to worst, we'll have to deal with these two until we can find their classes." he reasoned, leaning back in his chair with a shrug.

Slowly nodding to the reasoning, Mark turned his attention back to the book, ignoring the jump in page numbers that he  _knew_ was going to bug him later, instead focusing on the last heading.

"Vahilei lass, also known as a 'performer' this class blends in easily with the Avili and Berel class, making them difficult to pick out at a glance. Though their fatal flaw seems to be the  _need_ to make a scene of some sort, which will single them out from a group; in groups there's usually only one, with a rare exception of having 2 or at most 3." He paused briefly at the sound of a pen scratching over paper, glancing up at Dark in mild confusion as the Demon seemed content with filling out the registration papers, one already completed and flipped onto its front beside his arm. A brief glance from Dark had him turning back to the book, having to reread parts of the entry to try and figure out where he was before continuing on.

"Threat level is at least a 10, though the author apparently decided to leave a little note in the assessment that the Vahilei class tends to be pretty passive, since they're apparently just wanting to 'show off' for someone?" Mark said, frowning slightly before shaking his head, "Though some are further from this due to their constant mingling with other classes, making them volatile at best... so, basically to summarize it's just avoid at any chance possible, and if you're stuck in a room with one, try not to act like you're an unwilling participant to watching their displays?" he finished, vaguely confused at what a 'display' would entail before slowly setting the book down on the table.

A paper being placed on top of the book drew his attention towards Dark, watching his demon set the other paper in front of Jack before—assumedly—handing the pen over towards Anti, if the other Demon's giddy cackling under the library's table said anything. Glancing back towards the paper, Mark flipped it over, unsure of what he should have expected on the other side, though it seemed Dark had simply just... filled out the registrations if a glance over Jack's shoulder said anything, having Anti's name printed neatly at the top to designate which one was which.

Turning back to his own paper, Mark gave a quick nod of appreciation towards the monochrome demon, barely able to make out the pleased flare of red in the demon's aura before a wheeze from Jack had him turning back towards his partner, a question already forming on his tongue before Anti's registration was shoved in his face; an answer to the unspoken question. Leaning back to take the paper, Mark turned his full attention towards the elegantly curled script—he made a mental note to give Dark more things to either write on, or in—from where it stood out obviously from Jack's hand writing in an attempt to understand what Jack was reacting to.

 **_Name: Anti_ **  
**_~~Age~~ Species: Corporeal Demon_ **  
**_~~Breed~~ Classification: Galivi_ **  
**_D.O.B: October 10th_ **  
**_Sex: Male_ **  
**_Eye color: Black Sclera and Iris, green pupils._ **  
**_~~Markings~~ Alterations: Gash across throat, Pointed ears. "Glitches"_ **

Mark squinted slightly, unsure if he'd read the flowing script correctly, sparing a glance towards Jack as if attempting to confirm what he'd read. The Irishman's small nod doing nothing in easing the Detective's looming despair, turning his attention slowly back towards Dark's own paper with a quiet groan. Already having to separate his own handwriting from the demon's to keep a headache from suddenly springing to life at the stark differences. 

 _ **Name: Dark** _  
_**~~Age~~ Species: Corporeal Demon** _  
_**~~Breed~~ Classification: Civari** _  
_**D.O.B:** _  
_**Sex: Male** _  
_**Eye Color: Changing; mostly black sclera with red iris. Sometimes all black** _  
_**~~Markings~~ Alterations: Lives in Gray scale, red  & blue 'outline', accompanied by constant ringing**_

Setting the paper down carefully, Mark tried—and failed—to resist the urge to shove his face immediately into his hands, feeling a cold hand against his shoulder to signal the approach of Dark— _when had he left his chair?—_ to the other side of the table, the amused  _rumble_ from the Demon's chest only solidifying that yes, the papers Dark had just finished filling out, were one-hundred percent accurate to whatever it was they were technically even supposed to  _be._

 **"What's wrong Mark? You seem... _tense."_** Dark said, the words coming out in a near  _purr._ Honestly, Mark wouldn't be surprised if the demon weren't outright purring under the painful ringing of his aura, Dark had always been one to enjoy whatever minute suffering he'd gone through, especially if it was some minor inconvenience that just happened to be the last straw on an already stressful day that sent Mark spiraling through some sort of rage-fit in his office. An occurrence that often left the detective picking up the shattered remains of yet  _another_ picture frame.

Abruptly, Mark sat up, easily shaking off the hand on his shoulder and ignoring the pulse of blue from the Demon standing at his side, simply gathering the papers on the table and patting Jack's shoulder in an attempt to motivate the Irishman to actually stand up.

"... We have to get these turned into the chief, come on Jack. You can sleep on the couch in my office when we get there." Mark said, hearing the quiet protesting groan from his partner before the other man had gradually started moving to leave the library. Only pausing to glance back at the table where Anti was still eagerly scribbling away at the bottom of the desk.

"... Dark could you-" Mark started, though was abruptly cut off by the monochrome demon's sigh.

 **"I don't recall being put on Babysitting duty."** Dark rumbled, paying no mind to the fact he was likely making a scene by simply lifting the table in one hand, and grabbing the back of Anti's shirt with the other, easily dragging the lanky demon out from under it like he was simply taking out the trash. Setting the table back down in its place once he was certain that Anti was completely free of it. 

"We're gonna be banned from this library at some point, I'm calling it now." Jack muttered, leaning most of his weight on Mark to keep himself stabilized, watching the small scene with a tired expression.

 **"Give me 2 weeks and I can-"** Anti started, his statement being cut off abruptly by Dark clapping his free hand over the demon's mouth, silencing him.

 **"You'll do no such thing. Unlike some people, I rather enjoy places like this."** Dark growled, the blue of his aura pulsing sharply with the increase of volume to the ringing of his aura, before settling down. His expression hardening for a moment as crimson rings focused on the maniac eyes peering back at him through dyed-green bangs.  **"... Licking my hand will do nothing to free you."**

" _Okay!_ Lets go before you two get in a brawl in the library and we have to pay for damages." Mark announced, clapping his hands together and motioning towards the front doors for the Demons to make their way out. 

"We're definitely going to end up with a lifetime ban." Jack muttered once Dark had begrudgingly passed by the pair on his way towards the front door. 

"Oh probably... we should probably start looking for nearby libraries." Mark conceded, nodding slightly before gesturing forward for Jack to start walking. "After you." He said, swinging Jack's arm back over his shoulder, already familiar with the soreness that the Irishman was currently battling. 

"Mark you're a saint." Jack spoke after a moment.

"Compared to Dark, maybe." Mark answered, grinning slightly at the snort of amusement from the Irishman.

" _Anyone_ is a saint compared to Dark." Jack pointed out, blue hues glancing up towards Mark's face with the pointed statement.

"... Okay true, but still!" Mark huffed, nudging the library's door open and silently hoping that in the time it took to walk Jack from the table to the door, that the two demons hadn't somehow managed to burn down the town.


	8. Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I got carried away while writing this chapter. 
> 
> Which means enjoy an _extra_ long chapter!

Brown hues skimmed briefly over the text in front of him, fingers drumming lightly on the surface of his desk. With the two demons now having updated registration papers, Mark and Jack were free to do what they wanted—or in some cases,  _needed_ —to do for the rest of the day. In Mark's case, it was reading the rest of this little 'How-To' guide with corporeal demons. In all honesty, it read like a self-help book in some places, like it was completely normal to wake up one day to a demon punching you in the stomach because you'd slept past your normal time.

... Actually Mark wouldn't think to put that past Dark, knowing him, he probably  _would_ do that... if not just flip the bed over with him still in it out of spite... 

Regardless, the detective focused his attention back on the small print, ignoring the faint ringing that came as a result of Dark's ambient aura. While unnerving, it at least told him where the demon was in relation to himself, the louder the ringing meant the closer Dark was, while the quieter ringing meant he was a bit further away. Briefly, Mark glanced up towards his door, sending a quiet mental apology in the vague direction he knew Jack's office to be, assuming that was where his Demon was currently being a trouble maker of his own devices.

Turning back to his book, Mark gave a quiet sigh, already knowing that the rest of the reading was going to be incredibly boring, and hard to focus on any other occasion— _especially_ if Dark decided to return to the office early.

_"A Demon's bond is solidified, and full potential unlocked once the bond between human and demon has been made official. This can be done through several means, though none are in quite a drastic fashion as some sources that may have been read online. The easiest, and most common way to officiate the bond, is by learning the Demon's True Name, from the demon in question."_

The excerpt read, giving Mark a moment to pause as he set the book aside. What did they mean by 'Full Potential'? Last he remembered, Dark was pretty damn strong in his own right. Then again, hadn't he heard Dark talking to himself about not being as strong as he was before? If the demon knew he could be  _stronger_ by giving Mark his name, then he'd likely jump at the chance—not literally of course, as funny as that would be to see.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Mark shook the thoughts from his head, needing a clear mind to sort out the rest of the frustrations boiling just under the skin. Turning his attention forcefully back to the book, Mark struggled to keep his focus on the small print, already wanting to be done with the chapter and be able to do something else in good conscience.

_"Solidifying the bond between human and demon has side effects, though some can be seen as positive, or negative depending on yourself, and your demonic ally. For one, it's been noted that between a fully-bonded pair, words are unnecessary for communication. The two seeming to share a sort of mental link to share sensations, ideas, or simply thoughts that would otherwise be unavailable. Depending on the personality of your partner, this could be a good thing or a bad thing; though it's reported in those that have had longer contracts with their demon, that any tensions that had been built between them were worked through far easier with the added link."_

The detective hummed lightly as he worked the information over in his mind, while having Dark in his head for a few years just as a rider demon had been stressful enough—the demon apparently having made it his own personal goal to give Mark horrible nightmares on days where he  _really_ needed to sleep, being the main reason—he wouldn't deny that the idea of being able to wordlessly communicate with him again would have its perks. And honestly, to Mark; those perks outweighed the possible repercussions that may have come from re-establishing that mental link.

Tapping his foot lightly against the tiled floor of his office, Mark heaved a heavy sigh. If he even  _did_ manage to breach the topic with Dark, there was no assurance that the demon would even  _go_ for it. Dark  _craved_ being in control, it was one of the things that made him so unnerving, the way the monochrome demon could simply extend his aura and force everyone under it's influence to bow their heads. If the 'True Name' was anything like what Mark was thinking, he wasn't sure Dark would take so lightly towards it.

For all he knew, him asking Dark for his name could be seen as an attempt to assert  _dominance_ over him; and he knew fairly well from an old run in with a demon that Dark did not take well at  _all_ to someone trying to assert themselves as his superior... Mark spent  _weeks_ trying to scrub all the demon bits out of his floor, and even then he's still fairly certain he didn't get all of it.

Glancing back at the book, the detective gave a grunt of effort to move himself back into the correct position in the chair. If Dark  _did_ go for it, how would he even know? How could Mark be aware that the name he was given wasn't just something made up by the Demon to get him off the topic? Brown hues skimmed over the text again, trying to find some sort of answer hidden away in the tiny black letters.

_"The True Name is different from a call name, whereas a Demon will willingly give a Call Name—nobody want's to be called 'That Demon' after all—the True Name is essentially a Demon's very core. A true name is not 'heard', more accurately it's **felt.** Sensations and impressions leave lasting marks on the mind once a Demon gives their True name. And unlike humans, no two demons have the same True Name, sensations may be similar, but there is always some difference, even if hard to detect. No two demons are the same; and by extension, neither are their names."_

Sensations? Mark paused, thinking back on all the times he'd called on Dark. The only time he could even remember something  _vaguely_ similar to what the book was describing, was the first time that he'd made contact. When Dark had been so  _unruly_ in the back of his mind, tearing at the very edges of his sanity until the two of them had made the tentative deal that he'd allow Dark some moments of control—so long as the Demon remained supervised during them of course.

To think a bond formed out of panic, and a desire to keep people safe brought  _that_ nightmare with it... Honestly, Mark couldn't help but feel relief at knowing that Dark had since settled down, no longer one to outright rip and tear at the very core of his being, and instead settled for satisfying those urges on corporeal demons that he was called out against.

The detective shook his head, clearing away the thoughts before he turned his attention back to the book in front of him, no longer interested in the text now that his mind seemed to be racing with an energy he hadn't felt in quite some time. If he wanted to breach the subject, he'd have to do it while Dark was in a good mood, when the Demon wouldn't be so likely to react with violence in any form—yes, that  _did_ include the "passive aggressive" stacking of knives and forks on his floors that made him navigate through a very,  _very_ , dangerous maze.

He was lucky he left his glasses on the nightstand that night. Otherwise he'd probably have a few more embarrassing scars to tell stories about...

The faint ringing grew steadily louder, a testament to Dark's gradual approach towards his office. What the demon wanted this time, Mark wasn't sure. Only that the consistent buzzing of the demon's aura was likely going to give him a headache if it kept it up, which... knowing his luck, Dark wouldn't feel the need to cloak himself in it any time soon.

He should probably take the painkillers now before it got too bad.

**.::.**

The detective struggled not to frown under the weight of Dark's crimson stare, feeling the demon scrutinizing his every movement, his words stuck in his throat as though they were trying to suffocate him.

**"No."** Dark rumbled, his voice nothing short of a growl as the monochrome demon settled into the couch on the other side of the room.

Only once the demon had settled down, was Mark able to breathe, staring blankly at the demon across from him as Dark simply pulled a book from _god knows where_ and cracked it open to an unspecified page number. It took a moment for the growl to process, the detective struggling to understand the fact that _Dark_ had just said _no_ to being stronger. Wasn't that supposed to be like his one main goal? Aside from apparently trying to have control over everything but that was another matter entirely, what happened to that power-seeking demon he'd had in his head all those years?

**"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."** Came Dark's voice again, snapping Mark out of his spiraling thoughts. **"It's a rather unpleasant feeling, I've heard."** What the _fuck_ Dark.

Blinking rapidly, the detective struggled to reorient his thoughts, absently reaching for the familiar tug and sting of the demons' presence in the back of his mind—and forcing himself to repress a frown at the disappointment that responded to his attempt. Regardless of how long Dark had been corporeal, Mark still found himself reaching, as if his mind still hadn't processed the fact it was finally alone in his own head.

**"** **As I said, it's pointless. There is no gain from it."** Dark stated, crimson gaze leveled on the book in his lap as Mark's struggle to work through the conflicting emotions only intensified.

"I thought your whole game was to be  _stronger?_ Wasn't that part of the whole spiel you gave to me when you answered me for the first time?" Mark asked after a moment, managing to find the strength to force his words past the barrier that seemed to be keeping his voice down. "Didn't you say with my help you would be able to 'grow stronger'?" Mark continued, trying to think back to the growled words the demon had given the first time he'd  _actually_ heard the demon's voice.

**"I will be anchored to this realm."** Dark spoke, the growl to his words forcing Mark back into a stunned silence, the crimson rings seemingly having brightened to resemble molten lava.  **"What I said to you during the binding ritual, I spoke nothing of growing stronger. What I said was ' _With your help, I will be anchored to this realm, and you will have what you're seeking.'_ "** He growled, setting the book aside to slowly rise to his full height, and despite he and Mark being near identical, the demon exuded an air of superiority, an unspoken promise of torment.

Absently, Mark took note of the ringing's sharp rise in octave, silently appreciating his foresight to preemptively taking the Tylenol for the building headache.

"I Never said the binding ritual, Dark." Mark forced himself not to break the demon's gaze, knowing all too well the display was merely one of Dark's temper tantrums. Briefly, he could make out the gradual shifting of the ringing's tone, his thoughts becoming more clear as it lowered back into a reasonable level, and Dark's expression being forced back into one of indifference.

"You said that when you answered me for the first time. You said that you weren't helping me because I asked, you were helping because of  _Control,_ Dark." Mark continued, finding confidence as his mind quietly reminded him at the Demon's inability to cause bodily harm to him. He couldn't even lash out inside of the room without breaking something, without risking harm to Mark. "You demanded control, you thrived off of it. You  _demanded_ I let you in, over and over until there were times I was fucking  _coughing up blood_ in the mornings." He stated, easily moving to stand inches from the demon, ignoring the radiating  _heat_ from his figure.

**"You're playing a dangerous game, Mark."** Dark stated, his tone nearly a  _purr_ as he moved to circle around the detective, hands folded behind his back as he paced.  **"What makes you even _think_ you can handle the stress of my Name?" **He all but demanded, a clawed hand reaching out to grasp the detective's jaw, and force him to meet his gaze yet again, tilting his body in an awkward stance all the while.

"Because I didn't break under you." Mark stated, squinting back at the molten rings attempting to bore holes into his face. The resulting silence left tension thick in the air, neither wanting to break eye contact first. Gradually, Dark's grip on Mark's chin lessened, releasing the detective as the demon took a measured step away, instead turning towards the bookshelves in the room.

Mark could tell the Demon was pissed, could feel the anger radiating off of his form, and if the ever pulsing blue of his aura was any indicator, it was taking everything in the demon's control to keep from destroying the room. Brown hues softened slightly, shifting in his spot to clear the gradually rising ache in his back from where Dark had him twisted around. As much of an insufferable bastard the demon tended to be, Mark hadn't exactly been intending to piss him off quite so much.

Let alone to the point of where he could  _see_ the Demon's shell shattering at the edges. 

"Dark, look at me." Mark spoke softly, watching the stiffness in the demon's shoulders at the order before gradually, the rest of the monochrome figure turned. "You're mad, I can tell that much." He said after a moment, observing the way the demon's figure wavered, blurring at the edges and seeming to shatter like glass before being forcefully put back together.

**"What ever made you think _that?"_** Dark ground out, sarcasm dripping off of every word he said.

Wordless, Mark slowly set his hand on the demon's wavering shoulder, watching as Crimson rings darted towards it with muted suspicion. Mark knew he had never been very contact-heavy with Dark, even when the demon would yank him into a space that they could talk while the man slept. There had always just been  _something_ that told him it was a very,  _very_ bad idea to do anything physical with him. But now wasn't one of those times, the instincts that naturally strove to keep the man from doing dangerous shit—often failing due to his line of work—were for once, silent. Leaving Mark his own decisions on what to do.

Gradually, he could feel the tension melting away under his hand, the shattering of the demon's form occurring less and less as the seconds ticked by, feeling like eons. 

"You're not going to break me so easily." Mark finally said after a moment, waiting until he was certain that what little rage still lingered in the Demon's stance was just the ever-present anger he seemed to have. Honestly, he expected the demon to flare up again, to restart the brief argument that had started the spiral in the first place. However, he didn't expect the heavy sigh to answer him.

**"And you're not going to give up on it, either."** Dark had said, cracking his neck slightly to rid it of an unknown stiffness. 

"Nope!" Mark answered, unable to keep the grin from forming on his face, only watching the mild flash of annoyance come across the demon's face in response. That was fine, that was a normal reaction from him.

**"... What is it that has you so fascinated with this subject?"** Dark asked, seeming to shift the topic away from himself for a moment with the question. Squinting, Mark gave a low hum, considering his answer before gesturing towards the book still lying open on his desk.

"Read about it in a book, it was talking about how having the true name of a bonded demon makes... them.." Mark trailed, watching as Dark made his way across the room with ease to examine the book in question. The only indication that the demon was actually reading it being the slight trailing of crimson rings over the page and the minor tilt to the demon's head. 

Seconds passed, the detective unable to stop the twisting in his gut at the near silent ' _oh'_ that managed to escape from Dark. Or maybe it hadn't, maybe Mark was just imagining things that the demon was doing. Movement had his attention snapping up towards the monochrome demon with a sharp intake of breath, something he knew the other being heard from the slight spike of red in the demon's aura.

As crimson hues met his, Mark could see the slightest glimpse of understanding, muddled by something else he couldn't quite name.

**"... Are you certain with what you want?"** Dark spoke, straightening his posture to adjust his tie, hands immediately moving behind his back once it was deemed presentable. 

It took a moment for the demon's words to process, the voice having to essentially fight its way through the mess of mush that was the current state of Mark's mind. Once they did however, the detective wasted no time in nodding, he'd already had his spiral over it, had thought about it long enough to know for certain what he was going to be getting into if the demon  _did_ accept to it. 

"Pretty sure, yeah." Mark answered, figuring he might as well voice the statement instead of just nodding along like he was a bobble head that someone had shoved onto a washer, and left to bounce around violently from all the vibrations of the machine. Curiosity bubbled in his chest as he felt, more than watched, Dark approach, a clawed hand coming to rest on his shoulder as the Demon leaned in next to his ear, Mark couldn't help but tense under the Demon's sudden touch. 

The slight exhale of air, and words in a foreign—almost alien tongue—next to his ear was the only warning before claws of frigid cold seemed to sink into the very core of his being, ridding his body of even the memory of warmth as the pace of his heart sped up; hammering against it's cage, threatening to tear itself free from his chest in a violent explosion of viscera and blood. The very core of his being hurt, his stomach feeling as though it were simultaneously ripping itself apart and filled with butterflies, lodged in his throat yet falling to the very pit of himself.

Even the ever ambient ringing of the demon's aura seemed to have fallen silent, leaving only the sounds of rushing blood, and the frantic beat of his heart pounding in his ears like the loudest sounds imaginable. Mark could feel the skin of his hands crawling, trembling with an unseen force threatening to rip its way free from a delicately held balance, rage that had been confined for so long threatening to burst free in a brilliant display; practically begging to be released from the gradual cracks of a glass bottle, locked away within an old, battered chest at the end of his bed. 

All at once, everything seemed to come back, warmth rushing back into his body as Dark straightened back to his normal stance. The ambient ringing returning full force to chase away the silence that sought to shatter the sanity that Mark stubbornly refused to let go of, his stomach gradually settling back and leaving only the phantom sensations in it's wake. The tremor of his hands calming as Dark ran a—vaguely—comforting hand over his shoulder.  Eventually, Mark found the will to speak, forcing himself to make words as he met the monochrome demon's crimson gaze.

"What the  _fuck_ was that?" He managed, sounding far better than the sounds of muffled horror, or just sheer agony that threatened to erupt from his throat at any second.

**"... My Name."** Dark answered after a moment, his voice carrying a barely-there hint of concern, just faint enough to be easily missed unless one were looking specifically for it. Pausing for a few moments to process the sensations that had wrecked terror on his body, Mark gave a slight frown, not having expected the name to be  _quite_ like that. In fact, he found himself mentally groping at the feelings, trying to make any form of sense out of them before a single statement found its way from his lips.

" _Damien._ " Mark breathed, feeling the faint tug at his chest as the red aura around Dark's form seemed to pulse, a low growl of affirmation rising faintly in the demon's throat as crimson hues fixed themselves on his face. Gradually, the Detective managed to reorient himself, brown hues shifting towards the demon's face, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

**"Names are powerful things."** Dark warned, seeming to have to force himself back from where he was standing, to move instead towards the window, the red in his aura heavily overpowering the blue that seemed to be a constant around the monochrome demon's form. After a moment, the demon turned back towards him, the rumble deep in the demon's chest seeming to rattle to the core of Mark's being with the simple, quiet warning.

**"Use it _sparingly,_ Mark." **


	9. Anti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts around the middle of last chapter then skips ahead a few days.

_Crash!_

The Irishman groaned, blue hues slowly moving to meet the sickly emerald pinpricks staring back at him before his attention moved to the desk in front of him; seeing the empty spot where his coffee cup had once been, and Anti's arm still fully extended in front of him. A hand scrubbed over his face, Jack silently praying for Dark to come waltzing back into the office to distract Anti again with their impossibly complicated  _'Pissing Contest'_ as Dark had called it. Though the monochrome demon was nowhere to be seen, having left rather abruptly to return to Mark without a word. 

As Jack glanced towards the floor, he caught sight of the slowly growing puddle of coffee creeping along the wood, and the almost pearlescent shards of what had once been his favorite cup. Turning back towards Anti, Jack leaned forward on his desk, resting his head on folded hands with a heavy sigh.

"... You felt the need to do that why, exactly?" He asked finally, watching the grin on the Glitch Demon's face widen to a painful degree, immediately regretting his question as the demon mimicked his stance—only leaning quite a bit further over the desk to nearly be nose-to-nose with the Irishman. The demon saying nothing to explain his actions for a few tense moments before a familiar giggle escaped from Anti's mutilated throat.

**"I made that cup my bitch."**

Jack heaved yet another sigh, one that quickly turned to an extremely restrained groan of annoyance at the demon's antics. _Of Fucking Course_ it had to be his favorite mug Anti did it to, it wouldn't have been fun if it was just one he'd grabbed out of the cabinet without a care. 

"Why are you like this" Jack muttered, blue eyes hardening as a clawed hand reached out to grab his cheeks. 

**"Demons!"**

Of course.

**.::.**

The Irishman wasn't all too sure of what had happened between Mark and Dark, only knowing that the two were flowing much easier around each other. The two acting as mere extensions for each other without a word, and occasionally seeming to finish a point the other one was explaining. It was fucking  _creepy_ if Jack had to say anything about it, even Anti seemed a little perturbed by the situation, especially when Dark would begin to explain something to do with the paperwork that they were occasionally given to fill out—Jack always ended up having to fill out Anti's, since he saw it more appealing to just rip the papers apart instead of actually DO the work.—and Mark would finish the explanation without even a beat of hesitation.

But the times they spoke in unison, those were the  _worst_ according to Jack. Dark's otherworldly baritone being happily accentuated by Mark's upbeat, and rather excitable commentary about something-or-another that they were talking about at the time. Such an event often left Jack feeling as though something was trying to rip its way out of his back, the skin crawling from unseen bugs. He  _hated_ when they spoke in unison, it wasn't natural—then again, nothing about their lives were all that natural in  _any_ shape or form of the word 'natural'.

He pulled the phone back to his ear, forcing himself to tune back into what the other detective was saying with a quiet sound of exertion—having to stop your roommate from breaking the coffee machine was a difficult task after all. Especially when said roommate was a demon with an affinity for electronics, and causing complete and utter chaos at any chance he got.

"So, explain to me again just  _how_ you and Dark are suddenly so 'buddy-buddy' again?" Jack said after a moment, shifting the phone around to pin it against his cheek and shoulder; both hands now free to swat Anti away from one of the few  _vitally important_ electronics he had in his house.

 _"He gave me his name."_ Came Mark's answer, his voice muffled by what Jack could only assume to be his lunch that day, seeing as he'd ended up calling the other detective while he was at the local McDonalds.

"I thought he already did that-" Jack started, though was cut off abruptly as the sound of a disagreement filtered over the phone; the Irishman easily recognizing Dark's low growl even over the phone.

 _ **"That is absolutely disgusting"**_ Dark had rumbled, towards what? Jack wasn't all that sure, knowing only the self-defending noise Mark gave in response was signalling the fact that his partner had promptly shoved even _more_ of whatever he'd ordered into his mouth. Though knowing Mark, it was likely hash-browns, something that he'd seemed to enjoy at any time they'd gone to McDonalds in the past. 

 _"That's the wrong name, Jack. He gave me his call name originally."_ Mark clarified, a pause over the phone likely due to the man having to breathe—or stop Dark from trying to murder someone with a glare... either were equally likely to be the reason.  _"He gave me his True Name."_ The detective finished, leaving Jack to scrub at his face in frustration.

That explained _nothing!_ Abruptly, Mark seemed to have decided to elaborate on his point, as if sensing Jack's frustrations through the phone.

 _"When a demon gives someone their true name, it's like they've been put on steroids or some shit like that, they get stronger, and apparently the contract is fully made official."_ The detective paused, Dark's low growl filtering briefly through the phone, though too quiet for the Irishman to understand what the demon was saying before Mark had continued on, as though nothing had happened.

" _Remember that bond you had with Anti while he was still a rider?"_ Mark asked, the resulting silence telling Jack that he was actually supposed to answer it, instead of it just being rhetorical.

"Yeah, what about it?" Jack answered, once again swatting at Anti's hands as the demon tried—yet again—to mess with the coffee machine.

 _"That comes back."_ Mark's statement leaves what feels like a rock in his stomach, weighing him down as blue hues fixated on the glitching demon; watching as the entity set to destroying something else in his house. Mark's voice now background noise, a faint warbling as though he were underwater.

"... I'll call you back later, Mark, something just came up." Jack murmurs, paying little attention to the worried question over the phone before he was hanging up, tucking the phone back into his pocket. Leaning against the counter, Jack's taste for the freshly brewed coffee had faded, feeling oddly sick to his stomach as he stared down at the wooden finish of the countertop.

He had somethings to think about now.

**.::.**

It's not until the next day when Jack's finding Mark again, Dark at his heels as-per-usual. Oddly—he notes—the ambient ringing seems so much fainter from the demon, as if there's not as much interference from a broadcast. Dark even seemed.... relaxed, crimson gaze not as harsh, and posture not as stiff or proper. He seemed  _human._

"Jack are you alright? You never answered any of the calls or texts I sent last night..." Mark's voice draws him out of his thoughts, the Irishman giving him an apologetic smile, and nod of his head.

"I'm fine, just had to sort some things out, you know how it is. Getting used to living with a corporeal demon and everything." Jack lied, waving his hand in front of his face in an attempt to dismiss the subject.

Dark's aura pulsed, as if calling him out on his lie. The colors seeming to split away from his body in a way akin to a television's wavering image, before they had reformed. And if Jack hadn't known better, he would have said they were  _disappointed_ in him. The ringing rose an octave, irritating the faint headache Jack already knew was forming before the monochrome demon had turned crimson rings towards Anti.

 **"We need to have a talk."** Dark snarled, leading over to grasp roughly at Anti's bicep, leading the glitching demon away without much a fuss. Likely due to the pulse of flickering colors from the demon's aura, finally leaving the two humans alone in the office—or as alone as they can be surrounded by the cubicles of their colleagues, that is.

"... You want to tell me what that's all about? Dark just kidnapped Anti like he's got a ransom on him." Jack asked, arms crossing over his chest before Mark was waving for him to follow, mumbling something about it being too sensitive of a topic to discuss in the middle of the office. Following warily after his partner, Jack couldn't help but squint at the way Mark kept glancing back at him, an emotion that the Irishman couldn't place dancing through brown eyes. 

"It's about your relationship with Anti." Mark finally said, closing the office door behind them as Jack finally entered the room. The statement immediately bringing the urge to turn right back around and leave, to the forefront of Jack's mind. Though curiosity gnawed at him, what about the relationship suddenly had  _Mark_ getting concerned about it?

"What about it?" Jack ground out, forcing the words past clenched teeth. He didn't remember tensing up, he didn't even remember when he'd started to hold his breath; not even noticing it until he'd started to get light headed, and his lungs screamed for air.

"You're not happy with it." Mark voiced, settling on the couch in his office, and tapping on the cushion next to him for Jack to join him. "Dark told me that much, 'It's all over his aura' he'd said." Mark explained once the Irishman took his seat, brown hues full of concern, and worry.

Jack could only remain silent, eyes narrowing at the detective across from him,  _Dark_ was concerned now? What the  _hell_ was going on? It seemed that Mark took pity on him, a faint frown appearing on his face before he'd continued, as if hearing the unspoken question. 

"Dark doesn't like when a team he's supposed to be part of isn't functioning fully. You know how much he hates being trapped in situations like that and everyone's distracted by something else." Mark sighed, the reminder bringing a painful memory to the forefront of Jack's mind. A memory of the first time he and Anti had gotten into an argument—in the middle of a demon alarm no less—because the glitch demon had wanted to go straight for a kill.

Absently, Jack rubs at his throat, feeling the phantom sensations of a Dark-driven-Mark's hand wrapping around it and holding him to a wall... It had been terrifying, not just the fact that Dark hadn't even blinked when essentially exploding the corporeal demon they'd been against, but also because he wasn't  _listening_ to Mark. The very real threat of being suffocated against the wall had been there... The bruises hadn't gone away for months afterwards.

"... Yeah..." Jack conceded, nodding lightly, waving off the flash of concern on the other detective's face. He was fine, phantom pains were regular when one was dealing with a demon like Anti, after all. "So what would he have me do? If he feels like he knows whats going on between Anti and I, what would he suggest?" Jack asked after a moment, arms crossing over his chest as if they were his only line of defense.

He didn't like being read so easily.

There was a moment of silence, where Mark seemed to simply stare  _through_ him. It took Jack a few moments to realize that he'd been  _talking_ to Dark, only fully realizing it once Mark gave a weak shrug, and a the wisp of an answer, like he was afraid for Jack's reaction.

"He's _suggesting—"_ Jack recognizes the emphasis, knowing that a 'suggestion' from Dark was more like an order, "—that you get Anti's true name."

Another beat of silence, the air between them tense before Jack gave a weak laugh, as if expecting it to be a joke. Though the expression stayed on Mark's face, not even the hint of an amused smirk appearing. Nothing but the intent stare he was being given.

Jack hated when Mark resembled Dark, it felt as though he were talking to the demon; as though he had simply started using Mark as a marionette, and he the puppet master. 

"That's easier said than done." Jack mumbled after a moment, feeling the shift in the couch cushions before a hand settled onto his shoulder, silent comfort. 

"It can't be worse than the time he destroyed your kitchen while you were asleep." Mark reasoned, happily reminding him of the time that the demon had still been a rider. Jack had woken up with ceramic shards in his hand, on the floor of his bathroom, kneeling in front of the bath tub like Anti had  _started_ trying to remove them and just gave up right in the middle.

"You're an ass, Mark." He finally says, relenting to the prodding at his side.

"Yeah but you knew that." Mark answered, a goofy smile firmly plastered onto his face.

Jack was  _not_ looking forward to talking to Anti... about any of this.

"And!" Mark started, his voice cheerful, "Dark's already breached the subject for you." He  _helpfully_ added, sending despair even further into the pit of Jack's stomach


	10. There's Power in A Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've been wanting to do a chapter from one of the Demon's PoV....
> 
> So I chose part of this chapter to be from Anti's. Enjoy!
> 
> The first half of this chapter runs parallel to the last part of the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hadn't updated at all last week because it was Spring Break and I was honestly bogged down by a bunch of time spent at a buddy's and wasn't able to get on to write anything. But! I'm back, and here's a brand new (Long-ish) chapter.

Glitching intensifies, his body blurring violently at the edges as he feels the hand clasp shut around his bicep, dragging him along with the faintly warbling snarl.

 **"We need to have a talk."** Dark told him, his tone offering no explanation as he felt himself dragged away from the two humans. Irritation bubbling in his chest as a wavering hiss tears itself from his throat, and yet Dark merely continued to drag him along, the familiar scent telling him that the 'shadow' class demon was bringing him to Jack's office.

Anti's suspicions were confirmed once he felt himself thrown through the open door, claws stabbing into the carpet under him to keep him from skidding into a wall. His aura prickled along his back, a stabbing sensation that he knew well enough as he bared inhuman fangs with a venomous hiss.

 **"Keep that up and I'll break them."** Dark growled, tone low and dangerous. Anti could feel his self preservation instincts kick in, a tug deep in his chest that told him to break eye contact; to lower his head and give in to the 'stronger' demon. Though, seeing as he  _has_ no self preservation capabilities in him what-so-ever, Anti promptly ignored them; instead straightening up to his full height to keep eye contact.

The sharp rise in octave of the ringing had him flinching back, an unexpected change that had his instincts settling down immediately, and his aggression seeming to leech out of his figure. Anti  _hated_ when he did that, the fact that Dark just has to flare his aura and he'll have Anti backing down without a fight.

He hates not being in control, just as much as he  _knows_ Dark hates to be trapped.

 **"You already know what this is about, Anti."** Dark began, taking  _Jack's_ place behind the desk, hands folded in front of him to settle on the stained wood.  **"Sit down."**

Anti's in the chair across from him before the demon can process the order completely, mentally scolding himself for listening so eagerly to the harsh tone. Then again, he aptly remembers the comments from....  _other_ demons about him being a 'glutton for punishment'. 

**"You need to give Jack your name."**

Dark's voice snapped him out of his trailing thoughts, an outraged snarl torn free of his throat as a glitching hand slammed down on the delicate wood of the desk. Anti could feel himself wavering at the edges, particles tearing off of him to hover and twirl before reforming back into his body.

 **" _Hell_ no! He hasn't  _earned_ it." **Anti snarled, curling wicked claws into the meat of his hand, staring unblinking back into the molten rings that had shifted to meet his glare. 

 **"Anti."** Dark began, his tone warning.  **"You have been bound to him only a few months less than I have been bound to Mark. In that time, I am _very_ certain that your partner has done  _more_ than enough to 'earn' your name." **He stated, crimson hues narrowing in annoyance.

 **"Well I'm telling you he fucking hasn't."** Anti hissed, baring his fangs in outrage. He could feel the faintest echo of irritation drift through the room from the demon across from him, could  _see_ it as the icy blue aura seemed to flare itself violently out from Dark's figure. Even without a change in facial expression, the air in the room seems heavier, charged with electricity and tension. 

Anti loves it.

 **"Then pray tell, what would he _have_ to do, to prove he earned it?" **Dark ground out, the colors around him seeming to split off as though he were screaming, only to reform immediately to his figure. 

Anti only gave a smirk, and a wink in response for a few moments.

**"You'll see."**

**.::.**

Walking into his office felt like walking into a mine field, the tension in the air overwhelming as blue hues caught sight of the monochrome demon seated behind his desk. Jack stifled a sound of concern as molten rings shifted minutely in his direction, a pulse of Dark's aura alerting him to the fact the duo had noticed his approach. 

 **"Remember what we talked about, Anti."** Dark said simply, easily standing, and striding towards the door as though he hadn't just been having a stare down with his 'partner', passing by Jack with a trill low in his throat, a noise that left the Irishman with only a pang of confusion.

 **"Jackaboy, its about time you showed up."** Anti drawled, sprawling across the cushions of the couch he'd claimed. His voice sending chills along the detective's spine, a satisfied smile being the only signal that the demon had noticed the reaction.

"Mark had things he wanted to talk about." Jack muttered, paying little attention to the almost predatory way the demon seemed to be watching him, he was used to it by this point. Settling back into his desk, the Irishman shuffled through the drawers, searching for something he was supposed to have done for the chief by the end of the day.

Oh how much Jack hated the paperwork that came with having a corporeal demon. 

He's distracted enough to where the breathing on the back of his neck has him jolting away, banging his knee against the corner with a startled yelp; smacking a hand over his neck to glare at the glitching demon.

"What'd I say about doing that?" He huffed, blue eyes narrowing up at the toxic hues staring back at him. 

 **"Always do it?"** Anti answered, his shit-eating grin only widening at the frustrated noise that tore itself from Jack's throat. 

"Not to do it!" Jack clarified, a frown making its way onto his face at the responding, gleeful cackle from the demon.

 **"Heard, always do it."** Anti seemed to  _chirp,_ toxic eyes shining in amusement as the demon vaulted over the desk, completely ignoring the distressed shout from the Irishman, and instead settling back onto the couch as though he hadn't just scattered a weeks worth of paperwork all over the floor in a single movement.

"God you're an ass." Jack muttered, pushing his chair away in order to start recollecting all the scattered papers and doing his best not to grimace at the sticky feeling of his desk from where Anti had placed his hand. He didn't need to know  _what_ the Demon had on his hand, or where he got it. Jack had learned that a long time ago.

 **"Really? I never noticed!"** Anti chimed, proceeding to shuffle further into the couch as though he were making a nest, the throw pillows already bunched up in the corner of the arm while the blanket on the back was tossed onto the floor with the cushions. 

He was going to make a _kick ass_ couch fort.

**.::.**

"Anti, we need to talk." Jack started carefully, peering at the remarkably relaxed demon over the rim of his coffee cup. The pair had gotten home not ten minutes prior, and thankfully Anti hadn't seen the need to try and destroy the electronics in his house again. Though he did watch as his voice prompted pointed ears to twitch in his direction, a wordless indicator that the demon was listening to him, even if Anti wasn't exactly  _looking_ at him.

"It's about your Name..." He trailed, watching the tension seep back into the glitching demon's figure, a venomous hiss escaping the demon with a swear he couldn't hear before radioactive hues were focused on his face. Jack couldn't help but turn his attention towards his coffee, as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in his life.

 **"What about it?"** Anti growled, the edges of his figure seeming to pixelate off of him as if he were a character in a video game. Forcing himself not to flinch at the warning tone in the demon's voice, Jack lifted his gaze from his mug of coffee; setting the cup down in front of him in a way of trying to suppress the urge to look right back into it.

He  _really_ didn't like the look that Anti was giving him, as though he'd been stabbed—and not in the way that Anti apparently found enjoyable... how he found being stabbed with a knife something exciting, Jack wasn't sure. But he  _really_ didn't want to know, either.

"Mark was talking to me, and... I was led to assume that Dark talked to  _you_ about it as well." Jack started, taking the slightly narrowed gaze as an invitation to continue his point. "And, well... Mark made some good points—" The Irishman glanced up as the sound of Anti approaching grew louder, suppressing the urge to step back as he met the Demon's burning gaze. Though at the lack of any answer from the demon, Jack felt himself start to sweat, his chest tightening as the anxious thoughts seemed to find it fit to sink wicked claws into the flesh of his throat.

"We've been partners for a few years now-" Jack heard the scrape of a chair being pulled away from the kitchen table. "-And you know just as well as I do, how much you hate being seen as weak."

Another chair being pulled away, a low growl forcing him to take the offered seat. Jack's words almost died in his throat as the demon took a seat across from him, radioactive green pin pricks seeming to glare a hole to the very core of his being. 

Forcing himself to meet Anti's gaze, Jack struggled not to shudder at the downright  _murderous_ intent he could see lingering in the demon's gaze. His words finally  _do_ die in his throat, after struggling to try and gain oxygen to their little imaginary lungs for what felt like minutes; dying what Jack could only imagine was a terrifying, and painful death of suffocation.

The clicking of claws on the wood have him snapping out of his spiral before it could really begin—before he could find himself planning a small mental funeral for a statement that he'd likely never remember again, and had no real significance to the conversation besides trying to calm down the rather homicidal looking demon across from him.

 **"Jack.** **"** Anti says slowly, and the Irishman can feel the tension in his name; can see the struggle in the demon's body language to come across as though he weren't thinking of committing mass homicide at that current moment. Despite how heavily the demon attempts to act calm, he's not Dark, his facade _always_ shatters under scrutiny, especially Jack's own; having known the Demon for years, knowing the little ticks and quirks of the glitching being across from him.

To put it simply, Jack could read Anti like a book—granted, a book full of dangerously sharp teeth and less impulse control than a bag full of kittens, but a book nonetheless. There's a tense silence between them before Anti shoved his chair back; away from the table to lean it back on the rear two legs, saying nothing as emerald pinpricks remain fixed on Jack's face.

It's almost a relief when the shrill shrieking of the demon alarm sounds, drawing their attention away from the conversation. Faintly, Jack can hear rapid footsteps through the hallways of his apartment building; knowing the other residents were beginning to head to a safe area—at least for the time being, while the alarm was going off.

Anti's up and out of his chair before Jack realizes, impatiently waiting by the door for the Irishman to grab his gear. A brief glimpse towards the glitching demon gave Jack enough of an idea about how jittery Anti was, seeing barely contained energy simmering just under the demon's apathetic facade. 

"Go ahead and start heading to the front of the building; I'll be there in a minute, gotta call Mark." Jack called, freeing his phone from his pocket as he watched the demon depart without a sound; the front door hanging open behind him.

**.::.**

To say he's worried is nothing short of an understatement; his hand tapping near-frantically against his thigh as he strained against the dark aura keeping him back, the ambient ringing starting to give him a headache with its endless persistence of just  _existing._

Blue hues are focused on the corner ahead, watching the brief glimpses of where he can barely see Anti. He knows the demon that he's facing is a Berel; knows that it wasn't alone, and yet Anti had decided to snarl at the monochrome demon keeping them back to simply  _stay out of the way._  

Jack couldn't help but feel it was partially his fault; the conversation had left the glitching demon tense, itching to fight  _something_ and prove himself  _stronger_ than Dark.

His breath comes in struggling gasps, feeling the aura around him turn almost oppressive in it's weight. There's a flare of colors, familiar and vaguely reassuring before the shrill shriek of the foreign demons ring clear through the air. 

Jack tried not to think about the responding hiss, or the way he can hear something heavy hit the ground with a wet  _smack._ Tried so desperately not to let his thoughts wander into nightmare territory as Dark's aura keeps him fixed in place; unable to see whether either of the 'tamed' demons were okay.

For a moment, all he can feel is his heart hammering against his ribs, his breath catching in his throat as the far off siren finally silences itself; the shrill shrieking fading into the ringing silence of the Monochrome demon's aura. 

As the aura recedes, the action slow and almost uncertain, Jack's moving forward, ignoring Mark's calls as he rounds the corner. He'd never been one for gore; it always left him feeling what were essentially sympathy-tingles, even if it were in a game. So the sight ahead of him—Anti being pulled out of the rubble of a collapsed building, covered head-to-toe in the sinew of the  _obliterated_ Berel class demons, it left him a bit nauseous. 

He barely pays attention to the barely-masked fury in the glitching demons expression before he's turning away; managing to save what he'd had eaten that day instead of letting the nausea get to him.

 _It's Disorienting,_ he thinks; watching as colored lines gleam faintly against the monochrome figure that made up the other demon, watching the pale, glitching figure of his own demon straighten out the torn outfit to hide as many of the claw and bite marks as he could reasonably manage.

He knew Anti hated being perceived as weak, being seen as second-rate compared to the dark creature beside him. Jack just wasn't sure what he would do in retaliation against the other demon across from him. 

**.::.**

They're walking back into the door of his apartment when Anti lets out a frustrated snarl; the sound sending chills of instinctual fear down Jack's spine. The prickling of claws around his wrist once Jack shuts the door behind them; the sensation a familiar reminder of just how easily the demon in front of him could end a life without even trying.

**"There's no fucking way I'm letting that monochrome bastard act better than me."**

Anti's snarl was Jack's only warning before a sharp feeling of unease came over him; his nerves crawling along his back as though he were being watched by an invisible person. There's a steady drip of water in the distance; faint and echoing that tells the Irishman with another wave of fear, that he was alone—completely, and utterly helpless. 

His heart flutters, the beat skipping briefly as his hands tremble, even the sensation of Anti's claws around his wrist have disappeared, as though the demon hadn't existed. His breath comes in quickening pants, the subtle wave of fear growing stronger, and more prominent as the sound of blood rushing through his ears seems thunderous in the silence.

Agony races through his chest, a sharp sting that lasts only a moment before a burning sensation blossoms to life; a wet heat bubbling up from the nonexistent wound. Jack finds himself gripping his chest, trying to stop the agony that only pulses to his heart beat; leaves the phantom feeling of blood dripping from between his fingers and leaving a sticky, crimson trail upon pale flesh.

Jack can feel everything around him spinning, crushing down on him until it hurts to breathe; tears at the very depths of his mind until he's howling and screaming for it to stop; pleading with heavy tears stinging in his eyes.

All at once, everything stops; the sharp prick of claws tightening around his wrist brings him back, the cold drywall of the apartment walls at his back grounding the Irishman in the moment as he struggles to catch his breath

 _"What the fuck was that?!"_ Jack all-but snarled, glaring suspiciously at the demon in front of him before gently, claws were releasing his wrist; radioactive hues blinking down at him with an almost troubled expression that faded as quickly as it came.

 **"You wanted my Name. You have it."** Anti said simply, wordlessly swinging one of Jack's arms over the back of his neck to essentially carry the human towards the couch; a trilling noise resonating from high in his throat. Oddly enough—Jack noted—his muscles seemed to relax against his will, simply allowing the demon to manhandle him onto the couch without much more protest other than in a verbal sense.

However, as the Demon's words sank in; Jack paused. Confusion flickering through his mind as he warily touched back on the lingering sensations in his body, feeling the blossom of pain erupt in his chest again as he gripped at the loose fabric of his shirt—as if expecting his hand to come away with the sticky crimson ichor. 

"Your... Name? How the fuck was that a name?" Jack muttered, squinting down at his chest for a moment as the Irishman struggled to shove the sensations away, barely acknowledging the dip of the couch cushion beside him as Anti settled into his self-proclaimed throne.

 **"A True name is not a word. It's a feeling, sensations, emotions."** Anti stated, staring listlessly at the TV as he switched it to life; his attention straying from the documentary that seemed to be playing at a low volume, as if the program itself were aware of the tense atmosphere.

The Irishman is silent, taking in Anti's sudden change in behavior before he's leaning back against the cushions; allowing his mind to travel back to the agonizing feelings yet again—this time, it seemed; the pain had no desire to show, leaving behind only the odd sensation of his shirt sticking to his chest. He's sighing quietly, struggling to try and remember what he had heard within it before he's looking back at Anti, seeing the radioactive hues watching him from the corner of the demon's gaze.

"... Your name is... Sceptic?" Jack murmured after a moment, blue hues widening a fraction at the shudder that seemed to wreck havoc across the glitching demons figure; a deep  _growl_ replacing the high-pitched trill that had been a comforting sound in the demon's throat.

Yet Jack can't find it in him to feel any bit of fear at the noise, feeling only a sensation of protection flare to life in his chest before he's turning his gaze to the television again.

 **"... Don't just throw it around, Jack."** Anti said finally, the demon's figure relaxing into the couch as he gave a quick sweep of his hand; the television volume spiking in response to it, yet still settling at a comfortable level for the duo to hear.

Jack's only answer is an affirmative hum, feeling the exhaustion from the day settling deep into his bones. His conscious is fading rapidly, barely hearing the quiet mumble from the demon beside him before he's out cold.

**"Names have a specific power to them, it's not wise to use them lightly."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find if Anti had allegedly had an original name before we all knew him as Anti; so I had taken inspiration from one of my buddies and there's his name.


	11. Feeding time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now back to our regularly scheduled updates!
> 
> This chapter is, obviously, split PoV; starts with Mark and then goes to Jack.

Staring blankly at the aisle in front of him, Mark ran a hand through shaggy hair; trying to figure out what all to pick up for groceries. There's a moment where he finds himself fixated on the Chees-its in the aisle, the man having to push down the sudden urge to sweep his arm across the shelf and send the product scattering to the floor. 

Mark prided himself on his self control when it came to impulses like that.

Turning away from the aisle, Mark gave a quick shake of his head; scattering the similar impulses with the action before he's pushing the moderately-filled shopping cart ahead of him. 

**How long are you planning on being at the store?**

The sudden voice in the back of his skull has Mark jolting, a hand habitually moving to rub at the back of his neck to ease a headache that wasn't actually there. 

Sure, he and Dark had made nice, but that didn't mean he expected the demon to just start talking to him out of the blue like that; the mental link was a familiar, yet foreign concept to the man. His more recent experience with it only being when the demon was within line of sight—Frankly, Mark didn't expect for Dark to be able to just... pop in like that; expected there to be some sort of range-limit to the whole telepathy link-thing. 

The detective is blatantly ignoring the confused looks from the other shoppers as he's moved into another aisle, looking over the meats absently as he focused back on the ever present—although currently faint—feeling of Dark in the back of his mind; a gentle pulse of familiar aura being the only change to let Mark know the demon was aware he was peering in.

**I'm growing tired of explaining to Mrs. Lampley where you are and that I have no information to when you'll be expected home. Apparently you were supposed to help her with her _garden_ today, Mark.**

Mark can feel the disinterest from the Demon's tone, and can't help but feel shame cling to his back. He'd forgotten about Mrs. Lampley, his elderly, downstairs neighbor who seemed to have an affinity for cats—the only time he and Dark had been in her house, the demon ended up covered in the fluffy felines without any form of warning.

**Mark.**

Right, right. He was supposed to be focusing on groceries, not remembering the monochrome demon covered head-to-toe in multi-colored, long furred purr machines that apparently had a hatred for his tie.

... so much for staying focused. 

 _'Hey, since you're already on the line.'_ Mark started after a moment, figuring he might as well ask since the demon was listening, only hearing the brief hum of acknowledgement resonate in the back of his skull.  _'I just realized I've never **actually** seen you eat; I'm not sure what you even **will** eat, so... what do you want from the store?'_ He asked.

**The souls of the innocent.**

To say the demon's answer was unexpected... well that much was obvious, the answer giving in such a disinterested monotone that Mark had to stifle the bark of laughter that threatened to erupt from his chest at any moment—at least while in public, he could laugh all he wanted once he got back to the van.

_'They have Chicken'_

**Then get the chicken.**

_'But there's also beef.'_

**Mark. I don't care what all they have, just grab _something_ and get home, before I strangle our** **neighbor**

' _Hey no—no strangling the other tenants in the building you ass! That's in the deal.'_

**So it is. Regardless, just get home. This old woman is starting to annoy me with her insistence that I know where you are, and when you'll be back.**

_'... In her defense you do know **one** of those things.'_

There was no answer, other than a wave of mild annoyance from the back of his mind before Mark was offering a silent apology; only faintly aware of the accepting brush of the demons aura before he was dropping the family pack of boneless Chicken Breast into his cart.

_'I'll be home in like... 15-20 minutes tops.'_

**.::.**

Jack stared down at the darkened screen of his phone, blinking a few times in confusion as he clicked the power button yet again; only to be stared at by the same dark screen. His phone battery was dead.

"The fuck?" He mumbled, setting the drained device on the desk beside him; he'd been cut off in the middle of a call, the phone's battery—for some reason—having decided to take a plunge from 83% charge, to suddenly 0%, with no warning as to why.

 **"Somethin' wrong?"** Anti's wavering question brought the Irishman's gaze to the sporadically twitching demon, silent a moment before he gestured at the pile of electronics that he'd slowly started to amass on the dark stained oak of his desk; each one refusing to turn on for—what he was assuming to be—the same reason as the phone.

Dead battery.

For a moment, the pair sat in silence; Anti staring down at the electronics with an expression that Jack simply didn't have the patience to try and figure out at that exact moment in time. At least, before the Demon simply decided to stretch himself across the top of the desk with about as much grace as a large dog that believed they could still fit in someones lap.

Now faced with the conundrum of getting Anti off of his desk,  _and_ figuring out what had happened to the electronics; Jack merely stared at the glitching demon with an expression that could only convey the years of suffering he'd put up with from the Galivi class demon.

"Why are you like this?"

 **"Why not?"** Anti chirped, seeming all too content to simply make himself at home on the desk—ignorant of the sharp edges that seemed determined to dig into the spaces between his ribs.

Sighing heavily, Jack shook the annoyance away before reaching up to simply  _shove_ the demon off of the desk; barely blinking at the startled warble that tore itself from Anti's throat before the demon was hitting the ground in front of the desk.

 **"Oi! The fuck was that for?"**  

A glance up rewarded the Irishman with seeing the demon's narrowed gaze peeking over the edge of the desk at him, irritation clearly written across his face. Though Jack said nothing, simply going back to prodding at the mess of electronics to try and make some sense of why they weren't working.

He tried—and failed—to ignore the Demon's clawed hand as it simply patted around on the desk, much like the cat character hunting after a mouse in one of the cartoons he'd been watching in the middle of the afternoon the other day; after Anti had hidden the TV remote and passed out somewhere else in the house.

"Anti," Jack started.

 **"Mm?"** Came Anti's quick response, a flash of green over the edge telling him the demon was glancing over at him again.

"The fuck are you doing?" He asked; trying not to let the tiredness seep into his voice—and yet again, failing miserably in the attempt.

 **"Annoying you, is it working?"** The demon answered, popping up fully to lean his upper body against the dark oak of the desk; a toothy grin meeting his silent glare. Shoving the demon's face away, Jack folded his arms over the only other clear spot on his desk, and allowed himself to drop; his head meeting his arms with a dull  _thump_.

"I don't understand," Jack started, voice muffled by the fabric of his jacket, "I know I charged these last night, and they already have a dead battery." The Irishman said, shifting only slightly to where his face wasn't completely shoved into the green fabric of his jacket sleeves. 

The sound of one of his desk drawers opening had Jack pausing, shifting around further to stare blankly at the demon currently rooting around through it; almost in disbelief as he watched Anti pull out a small pack of batteries, and shut the drawer before he'd moved back to the couch on the far side of the room.

He couldn't find it in him to question what the demon was doing, too distracted by simply watching as the glitching figure tapped at the small container before he'd dug sharp, talon like claws into the flimsy cardboard backing of the plastic container.

Jack could only stare in disbelief as the demon extracted one of the new AAA batteries from the package, and simply shoved it into his mouth like it were some weird demon equivalent of a french fry. 

 _"What the actual fuck, Anti"_ He probably shouldn't have been as disturbed as he was, seeing as the other being in the room  _was_ a demon, and likely wouldn't be affected by the same things that human beings could die from. But... then again it wasn't every day he watched himself  _eat a fucking battery._

 **"What?"**  Anti said, voice slightly muffled from the battery in his mouth, though a moments pause had the demon swallowing it down before fixing glowing hues on the detective, as if realizing something.  **"Did you want one?"**

Jack was silent a moment, staring at the demon across from him before he was pushing himself away from his desk, and throwing his hands into the air with a shout of frustration.

"I give up! I'm done trying to understand why you do half the shit you do. Just- stay in here and don't destroy shit, I have to make a call." Jack all but shouted, taking the dead phone from his desk and marching towards the door.

 **"Battery's dead, Jackieboy."** Anti chirped, seeming pleased with the resulting groan of annoyance; simply looking over his claws with a smug grin on his face, and waving at the detective's back as he slammed the door behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this was one of the most difficult chapters to write so far; since it was just... not wanting to come out all that well, so I apologize on the length and the late update, again.
> 
> Anyway, I've gone quite a few chapters ahead, in my planning; so I think I have the ending of the fic all nice and planned out for y'all.
> 
> Though we have quite a ways to go before it's time to end this.


	12. Jumping the Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit's fucked

Mark nodded slightly, a hum resonating from deep in his throat before he gave a quick shrug towards his partner. "Maybe Chinese, we haven't had that in a while right?" He asked, brown hues shifting to meet Jack's gaze.

"Eh, we had that last week, what about Mongolian?" The Irishman suggested, sidestepping one of the other officers without much effort; simply adjusting his hold on his coffee as he sped up to match Mark's stride again.

"Mongolian's too far away, plus Anti got us banned from that place, remember?" Mark reminded him, reaching out slightly to pull Jack away from the corner of a cubicle before he continued, "besides, we could always do pizza."

"Pizza... yes, pizza sounds good lets do that." Jack agreed finally, nodding along to the suggestion as he wordlessly pulled a file from the top of another cubicle divider, sliding it easily onto another officer's desk without much thought. 

"Steve misplace his file again?" Mark asked, glancing over towards him as he crouched under one of the oddly-perched boards across a pair of cubicles; likely something Anti had done out of boredom again. 

"Yeah, guy would lose his head if it weren't attached to him, I swear." Jack muttered, quickly following Mark's lead in crouching under the board, instead of trying to jump it like he had a few weeks ago. Those bruises were only starting to fade.

The office around them shook, forcing the pair to grab onto the walls to stop themselves from toppling over from the force of it. A familiar surge of energy making their eyes widen a fraction before they were sprinting off; ignoring the questioning stares from the other officers as they paid little mind to the sudden obstacle course the building had become.

"What set 'em off this time?" Jack nearly shouted, grabbing onto one of the few unnecessarily placed poles around the office in order to swing himself around a corner; hearing the dull thump that signaled Mark colliding with the drywall shortly after him.

"How the fuck would I know? I've been getting coffee with you this whole time!" Mark shouted back; ignoring the groan of the old stairway door as it strained under the force of being slammed open. The duo taking the stairs two-at-a-time to minimize the amount of time they spent in the building.

It didn't take long for them to reach the ground floor; feeling the tremors happen with increasing frequency as their made their way through the lobby, annoyance prickling at their backs as Mark shoved the front doors open, Jack's voice splitting the otherwise heavily silence of the outside air.

 _"Can the two of you stop acting like fookin' children 'fer ten minutes?!"_ Jack shouted, blue hues narrowing as the pair stared at the demons standing awkwardly in front of the building; their auras recoiling sharply like scolded children.

"We leave you two alone for not even 3 minutes, and you're fighting. What the fuck?" Mark huffed, making his way down the stairs towards his demon.

"I'd expect this shit out of Anti, but god damn Dark, aren't you supposed to be the calm one of the two?" Jack growled, following Mark's lead after a beat of the tense silence, unflinching at the toxic glare that was quickly directed at him by the glitching demon. Instead, the Irishman simply reached up to grasp the demon's ear, yanking down harshly to tug his demonic doppelganger away from the other demon—and his partner.

 **"Ow ow ow! Jack let _go_ that  _hurts!"_** Anti whined, thorn-sharp claws settling around Jack's wrist, yet made no move to try and tug his hand away despite the complaint.

 **"Mark- before you start yelling allow me to explain,"** Dark's voice came, a glance back showing the monochrome demon attempting to placate his human partner with sharp motions. Seeming oddly distressed as his auras crackled around him; flaking away at the edges as though the very reality around him were shattering.

"Explain it then,  _Fast._ " Mark snarled, his patience with the demons already stretched to a dangerous thread; his arms crossing over his chest to further emphasize his point.

 **"Anti started it"** Dark said simply, prompting an outraged hiss from the glitching figure at Jack's side, though a sharp tug of the pointed ear had the demon settling back down immediately.

Mark's silence continued on for a few moments before the detective was pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy, long suffering sigh of annoyance. Speaking only after another few beats of silence to meet the monochrome demon's molten gaze.

_"You're both fucking unbelievable."_

**.::.**

Jack glanced up towards the pair of demons settled in his office, blue hues clouded briefly by worry as he watched Dark pace. 

 **"Settle down, you're going to wear a hole in the floor."** Anti spoke up from his spot on the couch, another AA battery being shoved into his mouth immediately after as though they were candy, and not actually something meant for providing energy to various electronic devices. Jack decided to simply ignore him. He'd already had enough weird for one day to bother trying to understand Anti's explanation of why he ate the batteries.

"He's right, Dark. Mark told you to stay here at the office, it's not like he's in any danger. You'd feel it if he was, after all he only lives a couple blocks away." Jack said after a moment, feeling crimson rings shift to stare at him for a moment. At one point in time, the stare would have worried him, would have prompted the instinctual rising of fear in his gut until he couldn't stand to even look at his own reflection for days at a time. 

But now? Now it just left a feeling of annoyance bubbling in the back of his mind, no doubt a result of the unruly aura coiling around everything in the room as though Dark were about to snap.

 **"I'm calm, I'm very, very calm."** Dark started, a sharp intake of breath being the only warning before a growl was revving to life in his throat; the demon immediately moving to stare out the window as though it had the answers to the universe.

"This is the complete opposite of calm, look at you, you're actin' like Anti." Jack said, gesturing towards the aforementioned demon that had been lounging on the couch. However, sharp movement from the glitching form had him glancing towards his demon with a confused hum.

 **"Did you feel that?"** Dark rumbled, barely turning away from the window as crimson hues shifted minutely in their direction,  **"That pulse?"**

Jack could only blink in confusion at Anti's affirmative hiss, watching his own demon stalk towards the window like a cat stalking its prey. 

"The fuck are you talkin' about Dark? What pulse?" He asked, barely flinching at the sharp snap from the monochrome demon's neck as he turned to face him; though the demon's answer wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting from him.

**"I'm talking about the surge of another demon's energy, strong enough that they may as well be on the physical plane. Did you not feel it?"**

Jack could only stare at the demon, blinking owlishly at him as he spoke. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He demanded after a moment, feeling Dark's answering growl rattle in his chest, rather than hear it.

 **"It means, someone besides myself has to go find my dumb ass partner and drag him back here."** Dark snarled, claws curling against the window ledge with an ear piercing shriek.

Jack moved to ask just  _why_ someone else had to go get Mark, instead of Dark himself before pausing; the little voice in the back of his mind cheekily reminding the Irishman of the scene that had happened first thing in the morning.

**.::.**

**"Why are you asking me to stay here instead of simply going home as well?"** Dark's low baritone seemed to ignore the walls of Jack's office, his arms crossing over his chest as he stared at Mark.

" _Because_ maybe this way you'll actually get along better with Anti, seriously what is  _with_ you too lately? All you've done is argue and fight!" Mark huffed, scrubbing at the side of his face for a moment before leveling a heated glare on the demon.

 **"The relationship between Anti and I has not changed, all we've ever done is 'fight and argue'."** Dark pointed out, heedless of the glare, though a quick chirrup escaped his throat once the demon noticed the door sliding open to signal the Irishman—and his demon's—arrival into the office.

"Dark, I don't have the patience for this today. Just stay here at the office with Jack, you can come back home after work's over." Mark sighed, the tiredness he felt seeping into each word. Oblivious to the questioning stares from the newly arrived pair.

 **"With all due respect, Mark, I would rather not."** Dark commented after a moment, already preparing to make his way out of the office before a frustrated growl had torn itself from Mark's throat.

"Oh for fucks sake,  ** _Damien._** " Mark hissed, watching the resulting shudder from the demon before molten rings were leveled on his face, "You're going to stay put in this fucking office until the end of the day, this is an order, I don't care how much your argue, I'm not in the mood for it and I highly doubt Jack is either. Do you understand me?"

There was a beat of silence before an irritated hiss had escaped the demon's throat, shifting instead to settle himself into one of the rarely used chairs within the office, though said nothing in response to Mark as the detective gave a quiet sigh.

"Glad to know, just... listen to Jack and try not to fight with Anti,  _Please."_

**.::.**

The Irishman glanced towards the frustrated demon, still uncertain as to whether or not it was a good idea before Anti's garbled purr sounded just beside his ear.

 **"We'll go check on him, after all, Jackaboy's probably worried _sick_ about him." **Anti purred, his tone holding no room for arguments as he simply pulled the Irishman to his feet, and shoved him towards the office door. 

"Why don't I just text him before we're breaking down his fuckin' front door?" Jack said, barely aware of Anti pulling his phone out of his pocket before the screen was shoved in front of his face.

 **"Already have, Jackaboy, he just hasn't answered shit since yesterday."** Anti answered quickly, though glanced back towards the other demon in the room with a quick wave of his hand.  **"Radio on the desk will keep you in touch with us, you'll be on speaker."** The demon said simply, not seeming bothered to check that what he'd done had actually worked before he was shoving Jack the rest of the way out of the office. 

**.::.**

The Irishman can hear the impatient pacing of the demon over the phone, sparing a glance over at the phone settled on Anti's lap once they've arrived at a red light. Faintly, Jack can't help but wonder if he'll need to order a replacement for the carpet in his office, for all the frantic pacing Dark had been doing since earlier that morning.

 **" _How much longer?_ " **Dark snarled, his voice crackling through the speaker before Anti was shifting the phone around again, his aura spiking only briefly before the volume was adjusted to a more suitable level for their ears.

"Dark calm down, I still have to obey the laws of traffic." Jack admonished, adjusting himself in his seat as he waited for the lights to change color, and barely giving Anti a glance of acknowledgement at the demon's own shifting. 

 **"Traffic laws are fucking stupid if you ask me."** Anti muttered, turning his attention towards the controls on the passenger side door, deciding to entertain himself by simply rolling the window up and down as they approached their destination.

Jack could hear Dark's annoyance through the speaker, the faint static-y ringing sharply rising a couple octaves before it was settling back down, likely by Dark's own force of will. 

 _ **"Then drive faster. What are they going to do? Give you a ticket?"**_ Dark hissed, the screen of the phone flickering slightly from Anti's resulting snort of amusement. 

"Yes, that's exactly what they're going to do, which means they'd pull me over and make this trip take two- maybe even three-times as long as it already is." Jack answered, paying little mind to the frustrated groan on the other side of the phone, knowing only that the other demon was likely destroying parts of his office, if the faint shattering in the background was anything to go by.

Then again, that may have just been the fact that Dark was talking to them through a  _fucking radio._

It takes a moment for Jack to realize he's getting close enough to Mark's apartment building, barely able to spot it among the cluster of other buildings on the street before he's pulling into the driveway. Judging by the sudden silence that came over the speaker, Jack can only assume that Dark could hear the car stop, that he knew they'd reached Mark's building finally.

Anti's the first one out of the car, practically leaping out of the window he's rolled open in order to stretch out briefly on the grass; a glitching garble of words too destroyed for Jack to even bother trying to make sense of, erupted from the demon's throat. 

"Come on, Anti, Mark first, then you can fuck nature all you want." Jack huffed, walking around the car to nudge at the Gavili class demon's ribs briefly before watching the Demon scramble to his feet. The mental image of a flailing cat making itself known with a flood of annoyance following immediately after; reminding the Irishman of the fact Anti was still, very much aware of anything that popped into his head at any given time.

Jack spared a glance towards the front of the building before he paused, squinting slightly to try and make out the figure he was seeing with a vague sense of disbelief.

"Mark? The fuck are you doing out here?" He called, trying to grab the other detective's attention, "What're you staring at up there that's so interesting?" Jack asked, his gaze flickering up towards the front patio of the apartment building to try and understand the unexplained actions; unaware of the snarling bubbling up from Anti's throat, and the crackling speaker of his phone, forgotten in the grass of the apartment building's lawn.

For a moment, Jack's staring in confusion at Mark's back, watching him turn towards them with what he could only assume to be some sort of grin before he was being yanked down by the back of his shirt, a loud, crackling bang of a gunshot sounding a mere millisecond later with the sting of the bullet grazing past his cheek telling him all he needed to know.

The flash of  _pink_ that had accompanied the shot however, also helped with his determination.

This wasn't Mark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -innocent whistling-


	13. But am I losing my mind?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons are pissed  
> Jack's confused & a bit light headed  
> And Mark just can't catch a break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an early update! 'Cause I'm impatient and I'm excited to know how people enjoy this chapter. I've been reading all the comments I get each chapter and even though I don't respond to them very often, I wanted to let y'all know that those comments are one of the few reasons why I still work on this story; they give me the motivation and actually let me know that people are enjoying it! 
> 
> So! Now that that's over with, some important things to know:  
> \- This chapter title is from Set it Off's "Nightmare" just cause I couldn't help myself.  
> \- Beginning of the chapter is from Dark's PoV, then swaps back to Jack & Anti for the middle, and then to a general overview at the next shift.

_"Come on, Anti, Mark first, then you can fuck nature all you want."_ Came Jack's voice through the speaker, Dark staring at the radio in his hand for a moment before calmly setting it on the table. Giving a silent, mental 'fuck you' in Jack's vague direction for the horrifying mental image that statement had given him. Though his head snapped back towards the Radio as Jack spoke up again.

_"Mark? The fuck are you doing out here? What're you staring at up there that's so interesting?"_ His aura spiked at the questions, hearing Anti's snarl through the low quality of the speaker as he's moving to the window, allowing his aura to unfurl fully to try and feel out where they were. The resounding gunshot from the speaker had his claws curling dangerously into the wood of the windowsill.

_**"Fuckin' hell, Jackass"** _

Dark can hear Anti's frustrated hiss, knows the bullet hit  _a_ target—and that the target wasn't Jack, judging by the lack of panic in the other demon's voice. He knows he's pacing, searching back through the contract he'd made with Mark to try and find any sort of loophole that the detective had left without meaning to; though such a search proved to be needless, his mind helpfully supplying a  _purposefully_ made loophole in the contract itself.

_"A direct command from myself can only be broken if you're absolutely **Certain**  that doing so will prevent harm to any of the aforementioned parties."_

He feels a tug in his chest, like a silent call that has Dark growling low in his throat; the shrill screech of sharpened claws against the wood of Jack's desk leaving deep grooves within the dark oak. Marks that he knew the Irishman would likely pay little mind to, considering the rest that littered the surface from Anti's usual antics.

**"Hang in there Mark,"** Dark murmured, feeling the slight nudge at the back of his mind in acknowledgement before he was shoving the window open; blatantly ignoring the birds he'd scared in doing so.  
  
**"I'll be there soon."**

**.::.**

Jack can feel a wet heat on his face, a hand coming up to touch at the stinging part of his cheek, only to come away wet with blood. However, a moment passed of the Irishman staring at the dark liquid before a crimson droplet fell onto his cheek. Startled out of his stupor, blue hues shifted upwards, seeing the slightly hunched figure of his demon practically curled over him as though acting like a meat shield; his shoulder steadily dripping from the bullet wound left behind in the flesh.

"Anti-" Jack started, only to be cut off by a hand over his mouth, and a warning hiss from the demon. 

**"Shut up, Jack."** Anti growled, shifting around slightly to let the detective slide onto the grass under them. A burst of barely contained rage boiling in the back of his mind to remind him of the demon's constant temper, a shift in the air alerted him to the sudden surge of the Gavili class demon's surge of aura.

**"Now that's no way to talk to your partner."** The cheerful tone to the voice had Jack wincing, sitting up slowly to stare at Marks grinning face, barely able to make out the pink gleam in normally brown hues, before the demon-possessed detective was turning away; seemingly indifferent towards the fact that he'd left a bullet wound in Anti's shoulder.

His attention shifted towards Anti at the garbled hiss that escaped his throat, climbing unsteadily to his feet to grab at the glitching figure's hand before tugging sharply back towards him; stopping the demon's pursuit before it truly began.

**"What the fuck, Jack?"** Anti hissed, turning radioactive hues towards the detective, only being met with an indifferent—vaguely concerned—expression from the Irishman.

"If you hurt 'em you'll hurt Mark." Jack stated, frowning heavily as the demon's glitches only intensified, accompanied by a stronger burst of irritation burning in the back of his mind.

**"Then what the fuck am I supposed to do? He fucking shot at you!"** Anti snarled, pointed ears pinning back as a clawed hand gestured wildly towards the grinning demon on the banister of the porch; his legs swinging gleefully in the air.

**"Honest mistake, I swear."** The Demon-Mark purred, his voice lacking any hint of concern as he leaned forward on his knees; his hair flopping over into his face and hiding one of the pastel hues from sight.

From this distance, Jack could have sworn he'd seen a flash of pink in normally dark hair. After a moment however, the Irishman noticed that the inhuman gaze wasn't focused on them, rather the demon was staring  _past_ them, into the street.

Blue hues narrowed as he glanced over his shoulder, trying to see if there was something behind them that neither had noticed, only to come up with an empty road; confusion boiling heavily in the back of his mind before a clawed hand settled onto his shoulder, Anti's grip tight with a low hiss in his ear.

**"Deep breath, Jackaboy."** Anti warned, his stance tense before Jack found himself being yanked in close to the lithe figure's chest. The impact combined with the sudden  _surge_ of familiar energy had the Irishman struggling to breathe, the air being squeezed from his lungs with every second before Anti's own aura seemed to intensify around them; fighting off the migraine-inducing ringing, and all encompassing cold that seemed determined to leech the warmth from everything it touched.

Fury rolled against his mind, an external force acting as though it were trying to lure its way in with every passing second before a snarl rumbled from Anti's throat; his aura coiling tightly around them both as the sudden wave of anger was shoved off. The cheery tone from the demon still settled on the patio had the Irishman tearing himself just far enough away from Anti, to peer over his shoulder at him. 

**"I appreciate your company! But you're not the ones I was after..."** The demon hummed, finally hopping off of the banister as his grin curled back, the expression holding an air of danger as sharpened teeth bared to the light.

A surge of an almost candy-sweet scent wrapped around them as he spread his arms in a gesture that could have been a welcoming embrace, had the demon not continued on to speak.  **"And I knew that hurting one of you two would _definitely_ bring my Darky to me!"**

Jack bit back a wince as he felt Anti's grip around him tighten, feeling the wave of possessiveness filter briefly through his mind before it seemed to be shoved away by an outside force. Faintly, he could feel the shift in the demon's stance, vicious fangs bared as the snarl deepened in tone.

Though, whatever Anti had been going on to say, was abruptly cut off by the surge of energy around them; the strength of it stealing away Jack's breath as he struggled to hold onto it, feeling his lungs burn as each gasp was more desperate than the last.

Another pulse of Anti's aura had his breath coming back easier, barely aware of hearing the Gavili's words as he hissed, the demon sounding as though he were speaking underwater. Though the answering baritone was hard to miss, even for someone as disoriented as Jack knew he was.

**"Stand Down, Anti. Take your partner away from here, I'll handle this little _rat_."**

**.::.**

Dark adjusted his stance slightly, feeling Anti's glare, and the other  _unwelcome_ demon's look of childish glee bore into him. Though, it seemed that Anti had little intention of arguing; simply adjusting his hold around Jack before the demon was scooping the Irishman into his arms in a rather lopsided bridal carry. However, before Anti could move them too far, the other demon was speaking up; pink hues glaringly bright against the dark locks hanging over his face. 

**"Darky! Why send our guests away? We were getting to know each other so well!"** The Demon said, tone frighteningly similar to a whine as he pressed his hands—and by extension, the still-loaded gun—to his cheeks.

**"Wilford."** Dark snarled, his aura coiling dangerously close to the startled demon; the colors around his figure flickering as though they were part of a strobe light. 

**"Yes Darky?"** The demon purred, not seeming to pay much attention to the barely-there threat from the monochrome demon's aura. The pistol in his hand easily being tossed away with a flick of his wrist. 

**"Why of all places are you _here?_ " **Dark questioned, paying little mind to the burst of the candy sweet scent from Wilford's aura as he moved towards him. 

**"Oh wouldn't you love to know that! He asked the same thing when he contacted me!"** Wilford hummed, leaning back a bit against the decorative white column near the stairs. Dark's aura pulsed at the answer, annoyance seeping heavily into the black as the ever present ringing spiked a couple octaves, the change being sudden enough to have the other demon flinching back slightly out of what was possibly instinct.

_**"Oi, lessen up a bit there Dark, you're suffocatin' him."**_ Anti's voice came, breaking through the vicious ringing. Molten rings shifted towards the Gavili demon and his partner, silently looking over the way Jack struggled to catch his breath before he gave a low hiss; his aura slowly creeping back towards him in an attempt to lessen the burden on the Irishman.

**"What's the matter with me being here Darky?"** Wilford asked, the demon leaning forward a bit now that the air had lightened up. Only to straighten his stance as molten hues refocused on him.

**"You're in my territory, Wilford. Surely even someone as detached as you can tell that much."** Dark snarled, the edges of his form flaking away with the barely contained anger that boiled throughout his aura.

**"But sharing is caring, Darky!"** The demon chimed, his tone playful as though not realizing the anger was real and not simply pretend. **"Humans are all about that sort of thing didn't you know?"** Wilford continued, his tone oddly conversational, **"or have you been too preoccupied not having any fun to realize that?"**

**"Who said I cared?"** Dark said, glaring heatedly towards the rather exuberant demon. A beat of tense silence passes before Wilford's grinning again, seemingly harmless as he sets his hands on his hips.

**"Celine did."** The demon hummed, not seeming to notice the sudden deathly chill to the air, or the way Dark had stiffened at the name. In fact, he hadn't seemed to pay much attention to Dark at all; ignorant of how the colors in his aura flickered until the icy blue seemed to devour the warmth that had once been around him.

The ringing jumped to a vicious level, Dark's hands trembling slightly as he forced himself to level his voice, despite how heavily the emotions tainted the aura around him. The icy blue laced with an unidentified emotion. He knows it's hard to breathe through, can see it in the way Anti's aura struggles against his own in any attempt to lighten the air around the two onlookers.

Jack could feel Anti's grip around him tighten before his eyes widen; seeing the stiff posture from the monochrome demon that simply  _screamed_ danger, a desperation to get away—to  _hide_ clawing at the back of his mind until it hurt for the Irishman to stay focused. He could see the other demon—Wilford, as Dark had apparently named him, tense at the sudden wave of aggression; watched as his hands raised in an almost placating manner.

**"Whoa there Darky- you're uh... you're startin' to hurt Mark-"** Wilford had started, only to be abruptly cut off by a frustrated snarl that seemed to echo around them.

**"Shut Up, Wilford."** Dark hissed,  a hand raised slightly as though he were about to lash out, before seemingly thinking better of it; and allowing his hand to drop back to his side.

**"Of all people I would tolerate, you are at the bottom of the list. Why Mark saw fit to allow you in is beyond me."** Dark continued, steadily approaching the sweet smelling demon until he was mere inches away; having backed Wilford into the railings behind him.

**"I have half a mind to banish you right this moment, were it not for Mark's agreement to allow your stay, I would banish you without a second thought. So be grateful that he has allowed you into his body."** Dark snarled, his voice dropping dangerously low as a clawed hand moved to squeeze pointedly around Wilford's throat. 

A beat of silence passed before Dark allowed his hand to fall, though stayed fixed in his place as molten rings continued to glare into pastel pink hues. A growl leaving his throat before he finally began to reel in his aura; the almost crushing pressure of the bitterness within immediately retreating along with it.

**"Now go back to where you came from, Wilford. I have no time for your games."** Dark stated, watching the hesitation flicker through pink hues before the other demon seemed to understand the silent warning; his figure relaxing for a moment before he slumped forward, and nearly collapsed to the ground. 

Jack carefully pried himself away from Anti once he was certain it was safe to be more than a few inches away from the Gavili demon's chest, moving to stand just within Dark's peripheral vision as he fixed blue hues on Mark's—now sleeping—form.

**.::.**

"... You alright?" Jack asked quietly from his spot on Mark's couch, the trio having brought the exhausted detective to his apartment to get what little rest he could before an alarm woke him again.

Dark was silent a moment, the demon's nails tapping rhythmically against the flesh of his leg before finally, he gave a slight shake of his head; his quiet whisper loud in the silence of the living room.

**"Not today, Jack. Just let it go for now."**  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also couldn't resist it.  
> I needed to bring in Warf.  
> No ego fic is complete without the local candy man


End file.
